


Truce

by Sleepy_fan



Series: Truce and Trust [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: AU, ConHaythWeek 2016, M/M, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-12 11:12:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 37,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9069067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepy_fan/pseuds/Sleepy_fan
Summary: An AU where Connor and Haytham's truce held.





	1. Chapter 1

The day had been long, tedious and it felt as though every step forwards he had taken for the betterment of his Order (and by extent, the rest of humanity, once they came under Templar rule) three steps backwards were achieved when trying to further the tenuous truce he had with the Colonial Brotherhood. Haytham had yet to knowingly meet any of Connor’s recruits, but he knew that some of them were in the city, by the amount of headaches they had caused him.

One of them had angered the city guards to the point of provoking them to set up checkpoints to catch the criminal. To make matters worse, several of Haytham’s agents were caught in the crossfire and hauled into one of the forts for questioning. He had managed to talk the British commander into letting them go, but not until three hours of pointless, circular arguments until some other poor sod who looked guilty was brought in for questioning and admitted to being the one who killed several guards.

Said moron was a hot-headed Patriot who had ranted and raved about all and sundry, having been quite taken in by the propaganda that Washington and the other so called Founding Fathers had fed them about this being a people’s rebellion, rather than an attempt by them and other wealthy landed white men to escape paying more taxes.

Haytham had just barely left the fort, his ears ringing with the passionate if flawed ranting of the Patriot, sending his formerly captive agents off on their missions once again when he was accosted by Connor – apparently the ranting lunatic who had been captured was either a friend or someone important to the Patriots. As a favor to them, Connor was determined to free the man, and assumed that he, Haytham had control of the fort and could thus order the British to let the man go. When the Templar Grandmaster explained (again) that the Templar Order and the British Empire were two completely separate entities and that he had little influence with this fort. In fact, he had just left with a few of his own men who had been caught by the British due to a misunderstanding…

Connor somehow had convinced him to help the other sneak into the fort and lead the other to where the captive Patriot had last been ranting. The cramped and dimly lit cell did reveal the man, slumped in a corner and muttering to himself hoarsely. Haytham kept watch for soldiers as Connor picked the lock on the door and the man’s manacles and the three of them were able to escape the fort without being noticed. For the most part.

The pair of Kenways took turns with one keeping the idiot muffled whilst the other darted ahead, to find hiding spots large enough for two men to hide in and switching off at every hiding space. It took another three hours, by Haytham’s estimation and they had reached one of the fort’s walls – near a spot where one could perform a leap of faith into a pile of hay that was on the other side of the fort. A short distance away from that was a clump of bushes that one could crouch in and wait for the roving patrol to pass them by if they were quiet and still. A brisk but short walk from there was the entrance to Boston’s tunnel system, from there they could navigate to almost anywhere in the cities with relative ease and lack of guards.

They had (with some difficulty, as the man was still struggling a little from time to time, visibly confused about what was going on to him, from the nonplussed expression on the Patriot’s face) gotten up onto the palace was, when the Patriot regained enough of his voice to ask in a shout “Oi! If you think I am going to jump to my death. You have got another thing coming! We might be able to get past the guards at this time of night. Especially if a bit of coin greases their palms.”

Haytham squeezed his eyes shut as he counted to ten in his mind, curbing an acerbic remark as he knew that several of the rooftop guards as well as at least a half-dozen of the soldiers on night patrol on the ground within the fort had heard The Idiot’s shout. “Connor. Get him. Out of. The fort. Now. I will deal with the guards and join you when I am done.”

For once, Connor simply nodded, not arguing at being told what to do, grabbing the patriot by the face and pulling The Idiot close to him as the Assassin performed a leap of faith, into the pile of hay with a bit less grace, given that he was muffling a civilian’s screams as they went down.

For Haytham, nearly two-dozen dead British soldiers later, he followed the two of them into the haystack. His clothes were a little bloody, but none of it was his. Connor shot off into the bushes, after making sure that Haytham had a firm grip on their rescuee.

After getting out of the fort, it was a fairly silent and easy trip to the outer edge of the city, where the Patriot was loaded onto a borrowed horse “I have some questions for the two of you!” The patriot spluttered as his surly rescuers shoved him onto a horse “How the fuck did you know how to hide like that? What happened to all of those guards? Are you injured, and shouldn’t we be getting him to a doctor if he is injured? And how in the depths of hell do the two of you know one another? I met Connor in Bridewell Prison… but you and I have never met, although I do know who you are, lord Kenway.”

Haytham glared at the idiot… Mason-something he thought. The other was a propagandist on the Patriot’s side, spewing fairy-tale childhoods for various important and well-known members of the Founding Fathers. “I have just saved you from interrogation, and quite possibly for being hanged for being a rebel. That is if they did not simply beat you to death for your tongue. I have no desire whatsoever to explain myself to you and nor do I have any wish to. However if my son would like to explain how we know one another, I do not have any objections. This blood is from the soldiers who you alerted when you shouted. None of it is mine.”

The look of startled delight and vulnerable happiness that Connor sent him was worth the startled sputtering from Weems. The Patriot spluttered “You are asking me to believe that a man like you can kill that many in such a short amount of time? I do not see any weapons on you.” The shock of Connor being the son of Lord Haytham Kenway sending him reeling. How such a dauntless, forthright and determined young man was spawned by such a haughty and hard to read person such as the irritated British Lord, was beyond Mason.

Haytham moved with startling swiftness, half pulling the patriot off the horse as he extended one of his hidden blades, lightly placing it on top of the other’s adam’s apple. “Just because I am not always visibly armed, does not mean I walk with no weapons at my side. This world is more dangerous and uncertain than you could possibly know. I did kill all of them myself with just these blades, as pistols attract unwanted attention and I did not have any throwing daggers on hand. I helped Connor rescue you because he would have tried to do so without my help and I have no desire bailing someone else out of trouble with the British in a civilized manner today.”

Weems gulped nervously, eyes almost crossed as he tried to keep the blade at his throat in his view. For a man with many words, the Patriot seemed strangely mute. A fact that Haytham was about to comment on when Connor tentatively moved closer to Haytham, placing a hand on the arm that held a blade close to an ally’s throat.

“Rake:ni… Father… The day has been long and exhausting for all of us. Yes, Mister Weems has been less cooperative than either one of us would have liked while we rescued him, and yes he is trying to pry into affairs he has no business or right to know… However, killing him after all of this effort would render most of today entirely useless, yes?” Connor coaxed gently, watching his father with large, cajoling brown eyes.

Haytham let out a silent, short huff and let Weems go, watching with no small amusement as the other flailed to keep from falling off the horse the Patriot had previously been half pulled off of. “I suppose you are correct, Connor. Do try to stay out of trouble? I have a distaste for dealing with idiots this much, and I will not aid you in this manner again, Mason Weems.”

Weems kicked the horse at that, a shiver running down his spine. For reasons that he could not name, Haytham Kenway was utterly terrifying in that moment. Not simply because of the fact that blood of multiple soldiers was still on his clothes (and that Kenway didn’t seem to mind that fact overmuch), and the cold, killer’s stare that pierced through what felt like Weem’s very soul… But the way Kenway had said his name felt as though someone had stepped on his grave, or some sort of covenant had been signed – one the costs of which the Patriot did not yet know. In any event, he urged the horse on as fast as it could move, before the tetchy Englishman changed his mind about killing him.

Father and son walked back into Boston in companionable silence for a time. Connor made his excuses after spotting someone – and Haytham politely did not look in that person’s direction, but the temptation to use his second sight to confirm whether or not the person was one of the other’s damnable recruits or not was strong.

The call to bed was stronger, and with the sun hanging low in the sky Haytham trudged into his room in the Green Dragon Inn, briefly tempted to leave the door unlocked and just collapse face first and hang the consequences. His good sense at not wanting to be robbed or fending off an idiot who was trying to kill him won out over his exhaustion (barely) and the Templar Grandmaster locked the door to his room with a nearly silent groan of exhaustion and irritation.

There was a stack of paperwork on his desk. All of which he had been going through in the morning, before everything had gone to hell in a handbasket, completely diverting from what he had been planning on doing.

No… That was not quite right – there was a letter he did not recognize that had been left in the center of his desk. Haytham checked it over with his second sight, on the off-chance that it was trapped somehow. It glowed with a soft grey-white shine that the rest of his paperwork and indeed, most of the room did, so he switched back to his normal sight, rubbing his temples as he did so. He had used his second sight rather a lot during the rescue, and overuse came with nearly-blinding headaches. Haytham opened the letter and begun to read the contents, eyebrows rising a little more as a blush dusted his face the more he read the letter, surprise filling him.

_Haytham,_

_I know it is rather bold of me to write to you in such an informal way, particularly since I have not introduced myself. However, I cannot quite find the courage to speak to you in person about certain things, so a letter must do. I hope that you will forgive my small amount of cowardice about this matter._

_You might be wondering what this matter is… And that is that I love you. I love the eloquent manner in which you speak, even though when we do speak – as we have met before and on more than a couple of occasions – your tongue is harsh and often acerbic, the silvered nature of it is apparent even then. And your silver tongue is gifted to you, as you have a brilliant, if sometimes terrifying mind. You are the most intelligent person I have ever met._

_It is unfortunate that when we do speak, we are often at odds with one another. But the passion in your eyes and the stubborn determination with which you go about each and every task is stunning._

_You have such grace and elegance with how you move as well. It matters not if you are simply walking down the street – or defending yourself against soldiers or bandits or when you climb and run on rooftops. Not a single motion is wasted. You possess the ferocity and grace of a wolf hunting._

_As for how I was able to get this to your room… I asked one of the maids to put this on your desk, as it is a letter for you, but I had other matters to attend to and I… I am uncertain as to how you would react to me. I hope that your day, afternoon or evening goes as you wish it to._

_Sincerely_

_A Secret Admirer_

_p.s. your eyes shine a brighter blue than the sky on a sun-lit day._

Haytham stared at the letter, trying to process what he had just read, trying to figure out who would have written this letter. It was not something He had ever encountered before. Haytham had heard of those who would initially try to court someone they fancied, to see if the person they were focused on was interested in being romanced. He had never thought to do something like that for anyone he had entertained romantic thoughts for, and was uncertain as to how to respond to the heartfelt (or a strange attempt at trying to manipulate him) letter. Haytham intended to ask who had left the letter to the maid, and hope that he could convince her to tell him. He disliked surprises… Even though this was rather sweet.

On the other hand, this supposed admirer of his was a curious mix of bold and shy… This person was obviously someone with whom he had contact with… And was involved in the conflict that Haytham had been part of since he was a child. He would watch his fellow Templars more closely, to try and figure out which of them it was. Haytham decided that he would write a letter in return. He would inquire with the maids as to which of them had been given the letter, and ask that if she found that person again, to give them his letter in response.

Haytham had decided against writing to this secret admirer, it could very well be some sort of hoax- or ill-considered prank. He was intensely curious about the sender- he did not recognize the head writing, but it was neat in the way that meant that this was written by the author’s dominant hand. If another letter came his way, perhaps Haytham might have anymore clues as to the identity of his supposed suitor.

It was a pleasant end to an aggravating day, nothing else. Haytham repaired for bed, a small smile on his face as he quickly fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is cross-posted on Tumblr for the 2016 ConHayth Week.


	2. Chapter 2

One week later, and Haytham found another letter waiting for him on his desk. Unlike the other letters there was no seal or other method of the letter being healed. He set the easily opened letter to one side and dealt with Templar correspondence. Haytham occasionally glanced at the letter, curiosity filling my.

Only after every other bit of paperwork was done, did Haytham begin to reach or the letter, start to unfold it when a knock startled him a little. He re-folded the letter silently as he called out. “Who is it?”

“Charles Lee is calling for you at the bar sir.” The tavern owner and were honestly. “I apologize for disturbing you, but mister lee is being quite insistent.”

“Very well, I shall see what is bothering Charles.” Haytham responded, tucking the letter into an inner pocket.

\-----

Haytham walked downstairs, finding Charles pacing and occasionally muttering under his breath, looking around the tavern room as if he expected to be attacked at any moment. He cleared his throat as he approached the other before asking “Charles, it is good to see you. You have the look of someone who is…Bothered. Come up to speak with me, as I rather suspect that you wish to talk privately?”

“Master Kenway! I would indeed like to speak with you privately, if you have time to do so.” The rebel general answered, stopping his pacing to face his boss.

“Follow me then.” Haytham responded as he gestured for the other to follow him. A small part of him wondered if he should mention the two letters to Charles. Almost as soon as he thought of it, Haytham shook himself mentally – this was a private matter. He had no desire, nor a good reason to involve any one of his inner circle in this as of yet. Additionally it was entirely possible that one or more of them was in on assisting this mysterious admirer of his.

As soon as they were in a secure area of the tavern, Charles started to pace around the room, muttering irritably “Several of our Agents have spotted multiple Assassins in Boston and New York. Each in differing uniforms, so they are certain that they spotted different Assassins, rather than the same one in different places. It seems as though he has been recruiting. Or different chapters of the Brotherhood have decided to meddle.”

A soft sigh escaped Haytham as he answered soothingly “Connor has a few recruits – no more than a dozen. I have told all of you that the two of us have struck a truce that holds true Order-wide on both sides. They are in uniforms now to show their numbers as a show of trust.”

“What purpose will this truce serve? The Assassins are an ill-disciplined group of outcasts and malcontented criminals. They will stab is in the back and leave us for dead at the most opportune moment for them! If I may speak freely sir, simply because that the bloodthirsty if noble sentiment-espousing son of yours seems to lead it does not mean that allying with them will lead to anything good in the long-term.” Charles growled, eyes flashing as he watched the man he admired above all others carefully. It was unfortunate that the Assassins had found one of the few weaknesses that his grandmaster had – the love for and the want of family and was using it against him in such a fashion.

“Charles! We have a chance for peace – which is one of the things that our Order strives for. If we can keep the Assassins from killing us while we regain full control of the colonies – and better yet as we are tentatively allied with one another, Connor assisted me in tracking down and killing the traitor, Church. If this truce can last, and develop into something more permanent, more useful the Assassins will see that we are not so differently aligned – that we can and would be able to work together.” Haytham scolded, a hint of annoyance entering his voice, before he quickly recovered. He understood why his second in command was upset – after all Connor hunted him relentlessly and hated Lee with a passion. But he would not allow Charles, nor any of his other Templars to die during this truce by Assassin hands. “Their ability to strike silently and quickly, taking down those who could become much bigger troubles if they were not taken down quietly… and They can make it seem as though those targets died peacefully, or by the hands of political opponents, making sure to lay a trail of evidence back to them. Their contact with the criminal underworld, and their more close alignment with such people would also be a valuable asset to our cause. It was one of the things that Thomas – may his soul rest peacefully – was doing.”

“If you say so, sir. I still think that this venture is much more likely to end in blood and death, then it is to end with peace. If such a thing were possible, surely then it would have been successfully attempted before.” Charles pointed out. The tactician in him knew that his grandmaster spoke the truth, and the streak of naiveté that he had been told was within Connor should prove useful… If the stubborn pigheadedness that the Assassin had doubtlessly gotten from his mother did not doom them all to death. Still, the previous incarnation of the Colonial Brotherhood would have never once dreamed of peace with Templars. Perhaps the desire for a connection ran both ways? Charles could only pray that it was so.

Haytham hummed a little at that, considering it briefly, before discarding the sentiment. Charles had no idea what it was like in Europe – England in particular, as that was the part of the Order he had the most contact with, as a member. “We have a chance to start anew here, whereas in Europe, the fighting, bloodshed and bitterness has been stewing for centuries. There have been times when the Templar Order has been taken over by glory and power seeking idiots who tarnish the name of Templars, claiming that their goals and that of the Templars are the same, when in truth, that is far from reality. For example, the Borgia’s reign in Italy a couple of centuries ago. I would have likely either joined the Brotherhood if I had been born in that time, or tried to kill the Borgia to re-take the Templar Order from their hideous leadership and try to fix what they had done.”

Charles had gotten a crash course in Templar history after he had been fully inducted into the Order, and the name rung a bell in his mind. Moments later, he clearly remembered the Borgia’s power grabs and unending thirst for power, which had been cut short – righteously so- by the Italian Brotherhood, under the leadership of one of the most feared Assassins of all time, Ezio Auditore. There was only one whose name was spoken with more fear, lest they wake his angry spirit and be haunted to an early grave. “Yes sir. I will do my best to follow your orders. The Patriots continue to fumble under the leadership of Washington – why the Congress continues to keep him as Commander of the Army, I do not know. They think I am here to gather supplies and to try to rally a few more to their cause… Which I shall. By your leave?”

Haytham smiled softly at Charles, to try to reassure the other further. “Thank you for all of your hard work, and thank you for informing me of the robed Assassins. I had not meant to stress you to the degree that you have. All I can counsel you to do, is to be patient and to help draw battle plans to avoid as much bloodshed on the Patriot side and hope that they will listen to you, at least in part. Good luck and godspeed.”

“Thank you sir. I am as ever, in your service.” Charles responded with a formal bow and left to tend to his other duties.


	3. Chapter 3

Haytham walked to his usual room in The Green Dragon, shutting and locking the door before pulling out the letter, the intense curiosity as to what the contents of this second letter contained causing him to almost tear the letter in his eagerness.

_Haytham,_

_I hope that this letter finds you well. I thought about sending you another letter sooner, but did not want to seem overeager. You are a truly fascinating person – as well as very handsome._

_Your hair shimmers in the sunlight, and glows in the moonlight. When you do smile, you can light a pitch-dark cave and anyone who earns such, is truly blessed and should know that it is such a gift you give them._

_With love,_

_Your Secret Admirer_

_p.s. your eyes shine a brighter blue than the sky on a sun-lit day._

This letter was shorter than the first – something that would have dismayed Haytham somewhat – as it gave him less to guess who this mysterious writer was. The writing seemed a bit messier than the first letter. A little bit of checking found his suspicion correct. What reason did this mysterious letter-maker to rush this letter? It was the same person as before – whoever this was wrote the same way. Either this person was someone he did not know well enough to see their handwriting, or someone he did know was paying someone else to write the words in their hand that they felt.

Who this person was, the Templar Grandmaster still did not have a clue. Still, this mystery was an entertaining diversion, when he had so much to contend with. He finished the correspondence and paperwork that he had made certain to hide securely, lest anyone try to spy on his room. The alliance – if it could be called that – was still very tenuous and new. Haytham stretched and decided to deliver the letters to trusted couriers himself, as it had taken him a couple of hours to complete all of the bookwork, and a stretch of the legs sounded delightful.

\-----

Haytham had finished delivering the letters to his couriers and they had set off to where they needed to be, when he caught a flash of blue that drew his attention. He blinked in surprise as he spotted Connor in one of Boston’s main marketplaces, dressed in the outfit he wore as Captain of The Aquila. It was the first time he had spotted the Assassin in the mercenary outfit when Connor was not aboard his beloved ship, and Haytham was very curious as to what the other was up to.

Besides, it was his duty as the Grandmaster of the Templar Order to see what Assasisns were up to, the truce notwithstanding. The fact that Connor was fractionally more approachable while wearing the outfit was part of it as well. The fact that the younger man was handso- where had that strange thought come from? Haytham mentally shook himself as he ambled over to where his tentative ally was and called out after Connor had finished speaking with a merchant. “Good afternoon Connor. It is a pleasant surprise to see you here in Boston.”

Connor jumped a little in surprise, turning swiftly as one of his hands flew to the handle of his tomahawk. His eyes widened a bit as he recognized the speaker, hand slowly leaving his weapon. “As it is a surprise for me to see you here. I thought that you might be at your plantation a bit further to the south, during this time of the year.”

“Oh, and why do you say that? The trees are being tended to, and I have other matters to attend to here. There is little that I personally must oversee in Spring.” Haytham responded, an amused lilt in his voice as he tried to ascertain what it was that Connor had been purchasing.

“I suppose that might be true, but it is warmer there, than it is here in Boston. Most years the rain is less relentless and the days have more sun.” Connor answered back.

The merchant returned, a piece of parchment attached to a thin wooden block.’ “Thirty barrels of water, fifteen barrels of salted meats and fifteen barrels of hard tack. If you would like to count and check the contents, it would not offend me, Captain Connor. The other items you have requested are being heavily rationed on account of the rebels causing more trouble. You will have to go up to the fort and request the gunpowder and cannonballs from them.” There was an apologetic note in the merchant’s voice as he explained.

An irritated sigh escaped Connor as he answered “Very well. It is unlikely that the British will sell to me, but I understand why they are doing so. Take me to what you intend to sell me.”

The merchant nodded, beginning to show the sea captain to where he stored the listed items when he spotted Haytham. One glance at the well tailored and rather costly dyed clothes had the merchant freezing up a little as he stuttered out “I d-did not intend to ignore you sir. I h-have a prior contract to fill out with this man here, but it should… Should be concluded soon, sir.”

The reaction garnered a subtle glower from Connor was wholly unwarranted. A touch of mischief filled Haytham as a subtle smirk graced his lips “No offence has been given or taken. I was simply curious as to what Connor here was up to, is all. My son has been at sea for some time now, and I have missed him.” It was a bit disconcerting how true that was. That Haytham had missed Connor – whether the other had been at sea during the two week interval that the two of them had not seen one another was true or not, Haytham was uncertain, beyond the provisions and the outfit that Connor was wearing.

Connor’s eyes widened a little in surprise at the fact that Haytham had acknowledged their blood relation in front of another person in a public place where they might be overheard. Claiming him as his son to get past a couple of treacherous  Templars who ended up dying not even an hour after learning that information was one thing. This situation was completely different that what he was hoping for. “I have missed you as well, father.” That earned Connor a small, but genuine smile. One that warmed his heart and causing it to skip a beat as well. He was glad that he was able to elicit that kind of response from Haytham.

“I shall leave you to your business, as it is not raining, I think I shall be looking for a few things to purchase.” The templar remarked, still smiling softly as he wandered away.

Connor blinked after Haytham uncertain as to how to react to that. Hope and a bit of happiness flickered in his chest as he realized that not once did they argue or insult one another during the (admittedly short) encounter. Perhaps taking the advice of the Homesteaders and beginning to court the person he had romantic feelings for was going to work out well. Connor had an idea for a gift- and one he was fairly certain that Haytham would like. It was a useful gift, rather than flowers or sweets as some had suggested.


	4. Chapter 4

Two weeks later, Haytham found that a neatly wrapped gift was waiting for him on the desk. Beside it was another letter. He unwrapped the cotton cloth, and found a set of throwing daggers attached to a fine leather belt. Haytham found the balance of the small blades to be perfect for what they were made for. When he put on the belt, it hid well and the weight did not bother him. Haytham spotted something flutter out of his belt as he put it on.

Haytham bent down to retrieve the object, startled at what it was as he ran his fingers along the edges of the feather. It was an eagle feather of some kind, of that Haytham was certain. But why it was that the belt of throwing daggers, posed several very intriguing questions. Perhaps the belt was meant for someone else, and the maids had put it in the wrong room. He activated his second sight, searching for Assassins, walking up and down the hallways, finding no one of interest. His windows were locked and there was no one hiding anywhere in his room. With a small frown, Haytham opened this latest letter. He was intensely curious as to whether or not this letter was from his mysterious suitor or not.

_Haytham,_

 

_I hope that this letter finds you in good health and spirits. I hope that the gift I gave you will assist you. There should be a full two dozen of them, and they are fully sharpened as well._

 

_You have a hypnotic voice. One which I could listen to for hours on end without tiring. You are a highly skilled speaker  as well, and he way that you craft words is nothing less than awe-inspiring._

 

_Sincerely,_

 

_Secret Admirer_

 

_p.s. your eyes shine a brighter blue than the sky on a sun-lit day._

 

Haytham was going to need to find Connor, as either one of his recruits had romantic feelings for him, or (far more likely) one of them was playing a practical joke of a sort on him. It was a cruel thing to do to a person, but it did not bother Haytham, such pettiness was a manifestation of their dislike and distrust of the truce that was so recently in place.

The thought that it might hurt a little was blatantly ridiculous. The flattery was more than a little over the top, and sloppily written. Honestly, Haytham was more amused than anything else. He would be keeping the daggers, and the feather could make affine quill. He would put a stop to this nonsense as soon as he found Connor again. If he got another gift or two beforehand… Haytham would keep them, particularly if they were as useful or as close to as useful as these daggers were.

Perhaps it was an honest crush, rather than a trick or a joke. If that was the case… poor foolish Assassin. But Connor would likely handle the issue more gently that Achilles ever would have. That stubborn bastard probably would have that Assassin in question killed- executed in front of the others for being a traitor to the Brotherhood when Achilles had been Mentor.

There was a chance that this secret admirer was a mercenary tied to the conflict… But Haytham was doubtful, given the eagle feather that had been packaged with the gift. Unless it was bought from one of the Assassins, and the feather was simply part of the initial package, and this admirer of his did not know what the feather meant. Or a thief (or mercenary for that matter) might have stolen the knife and belt, unaware of the feather.

In any event, he needed to find and speak with Connor. Haytham wanted to get to the heart of this mystery and wished to do so quickly, his curiosity was aroused and there was precious little he could do to figure out who this person was, beyond the hints that had already been given… And it was starting to drive Haytham mad. He disliked not knowing the truth of such matters.

\-------

 

It took Haytham another month and a half to find Connor. In that time he had gotten two more letters, and a whetstone and weapon polish of fine craftsmanship. The letters were in the same vein as the first three, sweet if a bit awkwardly worded. Whoever it was, was obviously trying not to come off as a stalker or creepy and had more or less succeeded. He appreciated the useful gifts – some were given flowers or other such useless drivel by their secret admirers –but Haytham had no such desire for those things.

He found Connor hiding in a haystack, and as nearly a dozen guards ran past the two of them, Haytham lounged casually against a brick wall and waited for all of them to pass before speaking “Do you have a moment Connor? I would like to talk to you about something.”

Connor shifted a little in the haystack before responding “I do have some time, but as there may be more guards about, I would rather wait until I am certain that they are no longer looking for me before getting out of my hiding spot.”

“Very well. I have been receiving letters for a couple of months, as well as a couple of gifts. The letters have been of a romantic nature, and the gifts… I think are meant to be taken as courting gifts. In one of them, an eagle feather was placed, which is a calling card of the Assassins’ Brotherhood. One of your Assassins – and it must be one of your Assassins, as the letters would not be coming so frequently otherwise – is trying to play a joke on me. I dislike being pestered in such a manner, and if any of your Assassins attempt to do something of this nature to one of my people who are less experienced in the trickery of the Brotherhood, I will be incredibly annoyed.” Haytham responded, voice low and irritated as he made sure not to move his lips much. If anyone saw him speaking to no one, they might think him mad, or talking to someone hidden.

“… Why do you assume that the Assassin who is trying to court you anonymously is doing so as a trick, and not because they want to… Pursue a relationship of that nature with you but are a little uncertain as to how you would react if they openly approached you?” Connor asked, equally quietly. There was an odd note in his voice, one that Haytham could not quite place.

“That scenario did occur to me, but I was uncertain and it is far more likely for what I proposed, rather than what you did. Our Orders have been fighting since time unknown and I would rather not get… Ah, so you know who is trying to court me, Connor? And they mean it truly?” Haytham asked, voice lightening up a little with hope that he could not quash. He knew which Assassin he wanted it to be (and he would be damned for it if anyone knew) but did not presume to think it was so.

“Yes I do, and the Assassin does want you. What would you do, if you were told their identity?” Connor responded, voice oddly breathy all of a sudden.

“I would ask you to set up a meeting with them, so that I might be able to meet this Assassin, and if we get along, I might consider having them and myself beginning to live with one another after a couple months of courting if things go well. If we do get along, the living with one another would include the truce becoming a full treaty, so long as the truth was not broken at that time.” Haytham answered, his heart in his mouth.

“You… The Assassin interested in you is here presently… I… I am the one who has been courting you.” Connor admitted in an anxious rush.

“I… I see. Though I may be damned for saying so…I had hoped that was the case. I look forwards to getting to know you more, Connor.” Haytham murmured as the other clambered out of the haystack, brushing himself off and moving closer to the Templar.

Connor approached Haytham, eyes flickering gold for a few moments as he checked for something – what Haytham could not discern until –

Connor kissed him squarely on the lips, drawing Haytham into a loose embrace as he did so. The kiss was a little clumsy, but still dizzying. Connor rested his forehead against Haytham’s as he whispered “And I look forwards to getting to know you as well.”


	5. Chapter 5

Connor was living with Haytham for a number of reasons. One of them was that he could better monitor the movements of the Templar Grandmaster if they shared living quarters. Another few reasons dealt with the newly forged treaty between the American Brotherhood and Templar Order. If both of them lived in the same place, it encouraged the others to get along with one another better… And if the two of them did private things behind closed doors… That was no one’s business but their own.

His father had been dealing with truly horrific amounts of paperwork for the past three days, and it felt as though every other hour a courier would come with even more papers for the Templar to deal with – and the couriers left with almost as much correspondence. Connor had been highly tempted to try and intercept some of it, to try and figure out what had Haytham’s people in such an uproar. His Assassins had reported that things were a bit more tense than usual:

The tension between the patriots and the loyalists and British soldiers were threatening to boil over into violence in the major cities. Particularly since the Patriot army had won a decisive victory a little over a month ago, and both the French and Spanish Empires were deciding to start lending more aid to the resistance fighters. Their reasons had likely more to do with annoying the British, rather than believing in the freedoms that the Patriot leadership claimed to want for all those who lived within the contested lands - lands in which those European powers held colonies as well… And they would respond with force, as they had in the past, if their colonies attempted to rebel against them. Then again, the Templars were much more entrenched in the leadership on both sides of the conflict and would thus have access to information that his recruits did not and could not easily obtain.

Haytham had been working very hard recently – his fingertips stained black with ink and candles burning long and low into the night. Connor had made sure that they were well-stocked on ink and parchment, having ran out of the house a couple of times to acquire those supplies before they ran out and his beloved was forced to stop dealing with whatever bit of madness that had struck The Templar’s Order.

Although anticipating when Haytham might want to eat and bringing up something warm a little before then so as to not break the other’s concentration (and get snapped at irritably) was difficult – and Connor had switched to bread with meat and cheese because though the meat was not quite as tasty as it was when it was hot, they were still filling. The fact that each of the sandwiches and all of the tea was consumed filled Connor with a warm feeling that spread from his chest throughout his body. That through his efforts, Haytham was not working himself into a stupor over whatever bit of lunacy that the Templars were in uproar over.  At night, Connor kept the cooling candle wax from ruining the parchments that Haytham had been reading or writing on. Connor made sure to gently clean his lover’s fingers off the best that he could as the other was slumped over the table, sleeping on it as he had dropped  his head on the table, too tired to continue working.

Connor was torn between trying to pick up Haytham (trying not to wake the other up in the process) and carry him off to bed – and as Haytham was usually a very light sleeper, given the nature of the work, it would probably not end well for either one of them – or he could bring a blanket and a pillow and try to make sure that his father would be as comfortable as he could in the chair the other had fallen asleep in, and gently tuck the pillow between Haytham’s head and the top of the sturdy (if uncomfortable to rest on) desk. After a little bit of deliberation, Connor decided that it would be best if he did the latter – as he would have to wake Haytham up and offer to assist the other into bed so as to avoid potentially getting stabbed if the other woke up to someone holding the stubborn Templar unexpectedly.

It took no time at all for Connor to retrieve a blanket and pillow from their room. It was a bit trickier to tuck the blanket around his slumbering lover’s form without waking the other up, but with patience (and in the light of the slowly dying fire – he would make sure to put a couple of smaller logs on the fire, so that the room would keep warm as Haytham cooled faster than he did) Connor managed to do so. Haytham had stirred a little a couple of times, but did not rouse to even partial awareness, as far as the Mentor Assassin could tell. As for the pillow… Connor switched out the stack of paperwork that the other had been resting his arms and head on for the pillow, making sure the switch happened swiftly, so that the movement (hopefully) did not wake Haytham.

It was a great temptation to flick through the pages, to read what he could from the papers in his hand in an attempt to figure out what the hell was going on… But it would be a breach in his beloved’s trust (which was a fragile and slowly growing thing) and if the other found out that Connor broke it… Something seized painfully in his chest and his body moved without conscious thought, carefully placing the stack of papers within easy reach of the Templar Grandmaster, in case the other had not finished them.

Connor silently padded out of the room, resolving to make one of the Englishman’s favorite breakfasts - a fiddly, multi-course meal but one that Connor was determined to make for the other. Perhaps it would encourage his lover to pause in his work for a short time to take care of himself… Not that Connor was worried about Haytham. The older man could take care of himself perfectly fine. He was just… Making sure that the Templar Grandmaster with whom he had a treaty with did not lose his mind by sitting still for so long. Perhaps he could gently encourage the other to come outside with him tomorrow  - to check to see how their people were doing by observing them and as a stretch of the legs?

\-----

One (intricate) cookbook recipe followed in exacting detail later, found the Mentor of the American Brotherhood only slightly covered in eggs and flour (among other things). He had remembered to wear an apron, it helped keep the clothes that he was wearing clean (breeches and a shirt – it was warm enough for Connor to not mind going without a shirt – besides as far as he knew, they were not going to be having any company but the last time he did that, Haytham stuttered and stared at him until Connor changed). It did help – and the pockets on the front of the apron helped to tuck in the spices that he needed at different points of the recipe into a place where he could more easily reach it.

Connor found a tray to arrange everything on – he had been in a couple of the best Taverns in new york at Haytham’s request and noted that they made the food look as appealing as it tasted and had tried to imitate that with what he thought might look good – the tea would finish steeping as he brought it up to his beloved, the dishes were balanced perfectly and as it was not-quite sunrise, Haytham was not yet awake.

He moved soundlessly through the house, opening the door to his father’s study  and setting down the tray and arranging the plates so that Haytham would likely take notice of them, but he made sure not to put them on the paperwork , lest it crease or something. Connor turned away from Haytham, about to leave to finish cleaning up the (large) mess that was left in the kitchen. But he had the impetuous desire to kiss his lover – either on the lips (which might be tricky) or press a kiss to the other’s cheek (which would be easier). He almost hummed softly to himself. He frequently sung or spoke quietly to himself when he was alone on the Frontier, and it was a habit that he often caught himself indulging in when he was in his beloved’s house here in New York. Although if Haytham noticed the habit, he made no comment on it, which was odd as the other usually remarked on everything Connor did. Usually with a snarky comment. But if he hummed the sound might wake Haytham… and Haytham looked quite peaceful sleeping, despite the fact that it was uncomfortable to rest in a slumped over position like that.

The fire - which Connor had just re-lit, despite the crawling tension that nearly choked him every time he was so close to open flames – cast a warm light on half of Haytham’s face (the other half was pressed against the pillow Connor had gotten the other last night). He looked at peace, some of the frown lines smoothed away. It highlighted the other’s beautiful silver hair – which had become partially undone as Haytham’s ribbon had slid partially whilst slumbering, fanning his face.

Connor  moved soundlessly towards the other once again, pressing a loving kiss to Haytham’s upturned cheek and lingered close to the other, tempted to re-tie the other’s hair properly… But Connor was fairly certain he had pushed his luck in not waking his beloved up already and with a silent, wistful sigh, he left the room as quietly as he had left it. The warm feeling in his chest returning, Connor was finding that he was enjoying taking care of Haytham. He was concerned as to why Haytham had been so utterly absorbed by work as to forget to eat unless it was brought up to him, and only slept when he could no longer keep his eyes open…

Once the other awoke, Connor was going to ask what was going on, and if there was anything that he could do to help. He was also not going to accept any deflecting or vague statements either and would not be deterred by caustic comments, nor be pulled into an argument. Connor knew those were all ways that Haytham tried to distract him from a topic that his father did not want to talk about.


	6. Chapter 6

Haytham woke up with something soft pressed against one of his cheeks instead of the hard wood of his desk (which was a little odd) and feeling warm, rather than a little bit chilled. The scent of chocolate, toast, butter as well as a freshly caught rabbit wafted invitingly and caused his stomach to rumble hungrily. The more subtle scent of tea was just as welcome and as he straightened and blinked the sleep from his eyes, Haytham noticed several things at once:

Someone had moved the stack of papers he had been working on, replacing them with a pillow (which was rather thoughtful, as very occasionally he would drool a little in his sleep). Someone (likely the same person) had wrapped a blanket around him (how had he not woken up when whoever it was did that? It was equal parts disconcerting and heartwarming) as well as stoked the fire to keep the creeping winter chill from entering his study… And someone had made and brought up one of his most favorite breakfasts. Haytham blinked a couple of times, trying to figure out who was daring enough among his inner circle to do this much, before it hit him.

It was none of them, but rather… Connor! His son had been incredibly diligent and kind, while he had buried himself in his work, preparing for what was to come… And Haytham knew that he needed to warn Connor so that the Master Assassin would be able to warn his Brotherhood so that they would be able to monitor the incoming Templar Agents, whilst staying out of their sight.

He had been drawn far too deeply into what the English, French, Spanish and Prussian Templar Rites were asking of them. Official Notices that each of them were sending several high ranking Agents from each Rite was coming to the colonies in order to share crucial information that could not be sent by letter, even encoded, lest it fall into the wrong hands (among other notices). It was much more likely that these Agents were going to try and meddle in affairs that they had no business meddling in… and it was possible that one or more of them might be sent to assassinate him so that their Rite could lay claim to the colonies – or try to influence his Templars in what they would assume was a power vacuum.

Haytham shook himself mentally as he reached for the plate, starting to eat, eyes closing as a small smile appeared on his face. Despite the fact that Connor had likely never made the meal before in his life, he had made it perfectly. The balance of flavors was correct, and a pleased hum rumbled in Haytham’s chest as he ate the rest of his breakfast, heart filling with an unexpected amount of joy and love as he could almost taste the amount of care and attention to detail that Connor had put into every aspect of the meal… With a start, Haytham also realized that he had not wandered down to make himself something to eat – nor a single cup of tea since the start of this nonsense. Yet he was nowhere near as ravenously hungry as he should have been, given that he had focused single-mindedly on the tasks of warning his people of what to expect as well as politely responding to the other factions of the Templar Order, despite wanting to tell them to stop sticking their noses where they were not wanted and leave him be.

Haytham realized that Connor had been quite patiently waiting all week for an explanation of some kind while he had been dealing with the information that this irritating series of future events. During that time, his son had made sure that Haytham had everything he needed – including space and quiet – to deal with this issue, despite knowing little to nothing. Connor might have gone through his papers whilst Haytham was asleep, but he was fairly certain that Connor had not done so. For one thing, he would likely be slinking around guiltily or trying to strategize with him – or more likely his Assassins – on the incoming powerful, foreign Templar Agents. Another was that though he would do his best to try, it was unlikely that Connor would be able to put his papers back in the exact order that Haytham had placed them into, particularly at night with only flickering flames to assist him.

\-----

After he brought down and washed the dishes, Haytham searched for his son, determined to speak with the other – not only to thank him for bringing up food, ink and parchment (as well as making sure that the fire in his study was burning well, despite the other’s understandable distaste for open flame), but to apologize for so completely ignoring him and all of Connor’s efforts whilst he himself had been absorbed in his work. Haytham was going to tell the other what they were going to face – and the probable true tasks of who was coming, as well as the temperaments of the Agents. He knew several of them by reputation and Connor’s recruits would need to stay clear of the major cities whilst a couple of them were here – those Agents enjoyed hunting and tormenting Assassins.

Haytham had bought the land and steadfastly refused to develop it further than the house that he had built for him, and while he did make sure that the trees did not hang over the properties of his neighbors, he did nothing else with it, other than to make sure that the plants (and the rabbits that lived there) were healthy. He did occasionally get complaints from his well-to-do neighbors, but he did not care. He did occasionally try to climb trees in the yard and while he was relatively unsuccessful, he found the open air and wild space grounding. Even though he knew that it was still in New York, the illusion was very thorough. It helped to clear his mind and ground him when the noise and bustle and press of people in the city proved too much for him.

He searched and found his son leaping from branch to branch with an ease and grace that the Templar quietly marveled at, smiling softly at the fact that the younger man genuinely seemed to enjoy the area.“Having fun, Connor?” He called out, if the other was unaware of his presence.

“Yes I am, father.” Connor responded, a small smile appearing on his face as he shifted on the branch he was balanced on so that he could look down at Haytham. In three swift movements, Connor was on the ground and walking towards his father. He was glad that he had put on a bit more clothing - not only was it a bit cold outside, but Haytham would have fussed at his state of undress. Honestly, it was not as though he was completely naked… Then again Colonial people seemed to enjoy putting on as many layers of clothing as they could physically stand for some reason that Connor did not want to understand. “I was going to try and pry you from your study, if you did not come out from there on your own today.” He searched the other’s face for any hint of what was going on - or that whatever it was had ended.

“The fresh air is starting to do me some good - and thank you. For the food and tea for the past few days, as well as making sure I had all of the ink and parchment I needed. Thank you for patiently waiting for me, and for not being irritated that I… More or less entirely ignored all of your conscientious and caring efforts to keep me from collapsing because of my own bad habits.” Haytham answered, voice warm and genuinely grateful as he moved towards Connor. He reached towards the other, hesitating a little, as he knew that Connor was touch shy, and while he did not seem to mind being touched by Haytham, he still wanted to make sure that Connor wanted the touch before doing so.

Connor moved into the touch, the smile on his face broadening a little as he allowed Haytham to cup one of his cheeks, lightly pressing one of his hands over the one of Haytham’s that was touching his face. “You are welcome, Haytham. I guessed that you were working on something important, for you to be so completely absorbed by whatever it was… If there is anything I can do to assist you, within reason of course, please tell me and I will do my best to see it done.”

Haytham thought about how he was going to tell the other – he had been since he had started to search for Connor in their home. Carefully, he chose his words and explained “Due to the fact that the patriots have recently won a decisive battle, both the French and Spanish Empires have decided to send more aid to them in order to further irritate the British. Templar Agents from both the Spanish and French Rites –as well a couple from the Prussian and British Rites are coming -” Haytham paused for a couple of moments, allowing the other to begin processing the information before continuing “ -on paper they are coming to assist the Colonial Rite during this tumultuous transition. What their full intentions are and whether or not they in the slightest bit align with what we are trying to accomplish is… Uncertain. They will be coming aboard what will be flying colors of merchant ships, holding a mixture of arms, food and other necessary supplies to aid the Patriot cause… All except for the British Rite’s agents, who will be coming with a complement of red coat soldiers.”

Connor listened very carefully to what the other was telling him, the loving smile fading from his face as the potentially catastrophic future situation was fully revealed to him. A frown furrowed his brows and he found that his grip on Haytham’s hands (as the other had stopped touching his face as he explained what was happening) was tightening as he asked lowly “I am guessing that so far you have been unable to convince them to leave us alone? The Brotherhood is weak here, and the Templar Order that you command has influence on both sides of the war… Is it because they feel that they might benefit more directly if they try to interfere themselves, rather than allying with you? Or is that one of the reasons why they are coming… To offer at least the illusion of aid and resources not just to you, but to the Patriots as well in exchange for favors and promises?”

Haytham answered as honestly as he could “I have been unable to convince them, but as sending correspondence takes weeks at a time between continents – and that is if the birds manage to make it through the weather, or the ships do not sink in the crossing of the Atlantic, I am uncertain as to whether or not the grandmasters of those orders will change their minds to something that would be more favorable for us once they read my letters or not… and if they will receive the information in time to recall their Agents from whatever tasks they have been ordered to complete. As far as I can tell, the letters that I was sent mean that the Templar Agents have not yet boarded the ships, as part of the letters were those of introduction and recommendation. Additionally, I have been corresponding with my people, and as far as they can tell, none of the named Templar Agents have landed in the English Colonies, which means either that they landed in the northern or southern colonies… Or in the slightly less likely event, they are waiting for my response before sending their Agents over if I sent a positive response, which I did not.”

Connor slowly let go of his father’s hands, in favor of bringing his own up to his chest, one forming a fist as the other massaged the back of the clenched hand. It was a nervous tick, but one that he unable to break, no matter what he tried. “I see… Do you think it is likely that they will be willing to leave your Rite be when they get your letters? Or is it that they will claim that they were unable to order their agents back in time so that they can complete whatever missions they have hear, whilst their leaders claim that they no longer have much, if any, responsibility over their Agents actions? I will warn my recruits about the foreign Templars… Do any of them have a particular… Vice, I believe it is called? A weakness that can be used to keep them from harming the tentative balance we have here? If you can tell me without my having to be inducted into the Templar Order?”

“Germain is a very dangerous man – he… It is suspected that he is a Sage. In addition he is firmly entrenched in the belief that Assassins must either be completely and utterly obliterated… Or broken and shattered before being molded into useful pawns for the Templars.” Haytham answered with a grimace and a small shudder, trying desperately to not think about what would happen if any of the highly manipulative Templar Agents that he knew were “And he is the most reasonable of the six of them who are coming… And I use the term as loosely as possible. I would recommend having your less skilled recruits go to the main base and stay there until they leave as… If those Agents get their hands on any of them… I will not be able to get that recruit away from them without informing them of our truce and with how new it is and the… Hard headedness of that particular set it would not likely end in anything but a lot of blood and pain.”

Connor’s fidgeting was getting much, much worse. An anxious expression appeared on his face as he struggled to figure out how to react to that, and subconsciously moved closer to his father. His eyes widened a little as he stuttered anxiously “A-Are you certain that this G-Germain is a Sage? Does he know that you have second sight? I will warn them of course, but a few of them are local leaders in the parts of town that they live in… Additionally they are good at blending in, and no one apart from myself and the other fellow Assassins know… I will warn them to keep a low profile and the others will be recalled to the main base, as it will be safer for them. Do you have to deal with all of them directly? Or can you have the others of your inner circle speak with them, citing that you are busy dealing with something else? Particularly since if Germain finds out he… He could –” Connor was unable to continue speaking, eyes wide as he tried not to panic. Panicking would do no good whatsoever and they needed to come up with a viable plan. Like sinking the ship the Sage was on so that he did not reach the colonies.

“Easy… Easy, Connor. I will not let him break me, and as I am viewed as an ally, it is vanishingly unlikely that he will not use his most destructive abilities on me. Besides, without a Piece of Eden, Sages only have flashes of memories from other Sages, and the increased healing ability and strength that we do.” Haytham soothed, cautiously approaching his lover, understanding the other’s fears and worries over what might happen. He pulled Connor into a comforting hug, and murmuring lovingly “I… Would prefer it if you did stay close to me, while they are here. None of them have second sight, and so long as you stay out of your uniform, it is unlikely that they will find out.” While it might be safer for Connor to go with his recruits into hiding… Haytham did not want him to be far during this trying time and it would be selfish of him to ask that of Connor. Besides with the small bit of forewarning that staying close should provide Connor, the Mentor Assassin should be able to keep his people out of the hands of the incoming Agents.

“Have… Have the messengers to the other Templar Rites left yet? I find it a bit… Oddly timed that four different divisions of the Templar Order reached out to inform you and the news came all at once, as the countries they are primarily trying to affect are not all in the same place. Unless they coordinated with one another and sent their messages all with the same courier? That sounds… Very risky to me.” Connor pointed out, the concerned frown deepening on his face. “If not all of the couriers have left, The Aquila is capable of trans-Atlantic travel. I would not mind taking one of them to the port city they need to be and wait for them to have a response and take the messenger back. I would also make sure to do some investigating while I was there, to see if I could find out what they might be trying to hide from you.”

“That is a tempting offer, Connor and I have secured trusted ships for the messengers – except for the one who has information for the English Order… It is very suspicious to get such a coordinated response, as though the different Orders do have some contact with one another, it is extremely rare for this much all at once, particularly during a time of war. IN addition to that, this colony – and unless the Patriots actually manage to break away successfully from the British Empire, it is still a colony – I an agricultural colony and not one of the largest in that regard, either. Unless they think I or my order possesses something of great value to them… This much attention is… Disconcerting to say the least.” Haytham replied. The thought of Connor making what could be an incredibly harrowing journey was not something that Haytham wanted to entertain. Connor also made a very good point about trying to investigate what might really being going on. Haytham had considered sending some of his own men to do just that, but many of his best infiltration Agents were busy gathering information on what the Patriots or what the British forces were planning and doing.

“… Is there something of great value that your order possesses, that they might want to take away from you?” Connor asked, knowing that he must check (and hope that his father would tell him the truth) as the Mentor of the Colonial Brotherhood. Whether or not the Grandmaster would tell him, depended entirely on what the nature of whatever it was… But Connor hoped that he had proven himself trustworthy – and that Haytham trusted in their truce well enough to divulge the information.

“Nothing comes to mind, apart from you Connor.” Haytham answered honestly, “the Amulet has no destructive powers, and seems only to be a trinket from Those Who Came Before. The Colonial Order has no other Pieces of Eden they are entirely too destructive and madness-inducing in those who try to use them.”

Connor blushed a little and stammered, “Wh-what do you mean by me, Haytham? What value would a master assassin held for them? I would not ally myself with Strange Templars, nor would I welcome them with open arms and a smile.”

“The fact that you are willing to reach out in the name of peace, rather than trying to destroy every Templar you find makes you someone they have never encountered. Although how they might have found out about our truce-if they have is a mystery. They might be after you, as for a period of ten years, there were no active Assassins in the new World, due to… certain things Achilles would know why, if he has not seen fit to tell you, ask him.” Haytham answered honestly,” I could tell you, but how much you would believe me… I do not know. I will say this- the Brotherhood you run and the Brotherhood that had been destroyed a decade ago was very different.”

“I… I see, the Old Man never did tell me why there were so few Assassins in the Colonies. There were those who knew of the Brotherhood, and from what Achilles said, there had once been a thriving Chapter here, before… before a cataclysmic event happened along with you. You were heavily involved in the destruction of the previous colonial brotherhood. Achillies does not like thinking about the past.” Connor responded, fidgeting uncomfortably with his hands. The curt and almost harsh response he’d gotten from Achilles was not something he wanted to go through again.”It is possible they may try to hunt down myself and the other, to kill or interrogate them in the name of the Templar Order and for the sake of aiding you?”

“Yes, and given that –if their stances still hold to what I have heard of them… even if I were to reveal that we are allied, they would demand something unreasonable of you-or one of your recruits to prove to them that this was not some elaborate Assassin plot of some kind.” Haytham answered honestly, shoulders dropping little, “Still, even if we are unlucky, we do have a few weeks to prepare for their arrival and I have been inside and not moving around much for entirely too long. I would be delighted if you joined me as I get a few tasks done throughout the city.”

I would be delighted to join you, but I will be wandering off from time to time to spread this news to those who need to know.”Connor answered with a small but happy smile appearing on face. Despite the upcoming ordeals, Connor remained hopeful. After all, when the two of them worked together, they were able to accomplish many things.”You mentioned earlier that you wanted me to stay close while the foreign Templar Agents did their missions here, yes? I would like to stay here, by your side while they are here… At least as much as I am able to, but how are you going to explain my presence at your side?” If those Templars were as untrusting as Achilles was about Templars- and from what Haytham had said, Connor’s assumption was probably correct, then telling them the truth would be as risky as trying to hurt a bear cub while the mother bear watched. Connor knew that he was not a skilled liar, and trying to prevaricate about something so fundamental to what he was off-hand and without preparation would not end in anything less than disaster.

“We will tell them part of the truth. You are my-” Mine. Connor was his…and (though he did not wish to admit it) he was Connor’s in turn. “- son, and a mercenary Captain of a ship. The ship’s yours, and as the fleet commander is away on a mission, you report directly to me on such things. You have aided the Colonial Templar Order numerous times including the recent hunting of the traitor Benjamin Church. You do not wear a ring as your first mate used to be an Assassin-aligned sailor and you do not wish to antagonize him directly. He is a highly skilled sailor, so we do not wish to lose his service. As for your hidden blades, should they be spotted…” Haytham paused to come up with something.

“You kept a spare set from the purge? And trained me how to use them telling them the truth would be as risky as harming a bear cub from a mother bear. They are highly useful and effective weapons to use?” Connor offered quietly. How will they were able to fool them depended on keeping the story straight… the lies were necessary and there was no reason at all to feel even the least bit guilty. It was to protect the others… so why was there a tense knot forming in the bit of his stomach?

“That sounds logical.” Haytham hummed contemplatively as he tried not to imagine Connor in a Templar uniform…” you would have to either wear your captain’s uniforms to the meetings…or in more form any Templars-only events you will…in order to maintain cover… It would be strange if you did not…” Haytham murmured gently prodding Connor towards what had to be done. He was speaking more tentatively as Haytham was uncertain as to how Connor would take to having to potentially wear a Templar uniform.

“…I will need to be in a Templar uniform…In order to sell the role, I have worn far more irritating things and the reactions of your inner circle will be entertaining to say the least.” Connor answered, a hint of mischief in his voice.

A small smile appeared on Haytham’s face as he nodded “Yes, it will be. I will tell them before they see you, however. So they do not react oddly in the eyes of our potential unwanted visitors.”


	7. Chapter 7

His father had a handful of trusted servants – who Connor warned of the number of incoming guests and that they would be staying for an indeterminate amount of time… Along with the fact that these guests would likely be temperamental in nature as well as important to at least keep content, as they could and possibly would cause trouble if not kept happy. Shay lurked on the other side of the room as Connor spoke – which was distracting and disconcerting as the Assassin could not help but be very much aware of the highly dangerous Assassin Hunter in close quarters. This was going to be a trial through fire, as the other powerful Templars were unlikely to be as amiable as Cormac was, or close to it. Particularly from what Haytham had told him about their reputations and personalities – but his father had his own biases.

He would have offered to help the servants to get the place ready for the guests – but he spotted Cormac hovering closer again and asked softly “Did master Kenway ask for you to bring me to him at a certain time? You have been in the same room as I have been since we have gotten here. Is there something you need?”

“Let’s go for a little walk, lad.” Shay responded, gesturing for Connor to follow him, which he did. Once they were alone, Cormac turned to Connor and asked “The Grandmaster did ask me to bring you to the Finnegan’s place around sunset. You are not a Templar, are you lad?”

Connor froze for a few moments, before remembering the script that he and his father had agreed to stick to – and the information that his father’s inner circle would stick to if and when asked. “No, I am not. I am a mercenary captain. Being a Templar under my father… I would simply be in his shadow, and some of the other agents grumble that he favors me and I am not properly part of the Order. If I were to join… Those grumblings would only get worse. Lee and Johnson found me as a teenager while traveling through the frontier after stumbling upon my village. They spoke with my mother, and realized who I was.” His hands were clasped in front of him, up at chest level as one hand rubbed the knuckles of the other. He was not directly looking Cormac in the face, as he did not wish to seem challenging.

“Ah. Which ship is it that you captain?” Shay asked, moving a bit closer to Connor, noting the other’s discomfort and curious as to how far he could push the other. From the way that the younger man acted and spoke, he was quite certain that Connor was definitely not Templar-allied. At least, if he was, it was a very recent and uncertain development. Odd for one who was supposedly the son of the Colonial Grandmaster.

“The Aquila, why do you ask?” Connor asked curiously, watching the other approach and uncertain as to whether or not he wanted to try backing away a little. Shay was not-quite in his personal space, but could potentially pose a big threat, if he decided to attack.

“The Aquila is an Assassins’ ship. Or at least, she was before she supposedly sank about fifteen years ago or so. You move like an Assassin, and you have the blades as well. So tell me, why are you playing at being my Grandmaster’s son? It is a cruel thing, to prey upon someone’s closest and most deeply held desires.” Cormac growled, tackling Connor and pinning him to a wall, pressing a blade to the other’s throat.

“I am his son, Mister Cormac. I would not pretend otherwise, as such deception is not something I would ever do. You are correct in your assumption that I am an Assassin – rake:ni or one of the others was likely to pull you aside when they had time to do so. However since we are alone and the foreign Templars will not be able to overhear this I will tell you what is going on. The English Colonial Brotherhood is rebuilding, and I am a member of said Brotherhood. We have a truce with the English Colonial Templar Rite that has been steady for the past six months, brokered between myself and your Grandmaster shortly after the discovery of Church’s treachery.” Connor paused for a couple of moments, trying to decipher whether or not Cormac believed his words at all. He kept his voice calm and steady as he continued to explain what was going on. “At first the truce simply encompassed the two of us, however after the successful completion of the mission, we decided to extend the truce to the entirety of both orders. As this truce is still in its’ infancy, neither of us have any desire for the foreign Templars to discover what is truly happening within the English Colonies, as they would likely meddle, or try to find out the identities of the Colonial Assassins and either kill them, or try to have them kidnapped, broken and brainwashed into Templar Agents.”

“So… You want me to believe that there is a… An armistice between Templars and Assassins, which is being hidden from the visitors?” Shay growled, still holding his blade firmly to the infuriatingly calm Assassin’s neck.

“You should, because Connor is telling the truth.” Charles Lee of all people called out from behind the two of them, having come from the street side of the alley the two of them were currently in. “The Grandmaster sent me to find the pair of you as either the two of you had found trouble to get into… Or you were fighting. “Connor here is the Mentor of the Brotherhood, near as any of us can figure and they will not take kindly to you murdering him, Shay. Nor will Master Kenway as Connor is his son.”

“Jesus Christ Charlie! Do not sneak up on me like that!” Shay scolded, having jumped a little, almost slicing a small cut along Connor’s throat.

Almost because one of Connor’s hands had come up as soon as Lee had started talking, to keep Cormac’s hand steady. “Will you let me go? If he is here, it likely means that your Grandmaster and the meddlesome Templars will be along shortly, particularly given that the sun has begun to set.”

Cormac huffed a little before letting Connor go “Very well then, but I will be watching you carefully.”

“I understand why you would, however the… Guests may notice and wonder why you would, and both Rake:ni and I have no wish for them to discover what is truly going on in the colonies, beyond what we want them to see.” Connor answered back.

“I will still be watching, lad.” Cormac grumbled. Connor nodded in acknowledgement and the three of them left the alley to find Haytham and the group of foreign Templars.

\------

The three of them joined the group of well-dressed people, Connor staying towards the back of the crowd. If he had his way, the Assassin would be at the furthest point back in the group, but every time he tried, Cormac appeared at his side and made certain that he was not lagging too far behind the rest of them. They were patiently waiting for a lull in the conversation to say hello to Haytham.

However one of the visitors spotted Connor trying to edge away from them and Shay not letting him. A French Templar by the name of Germain “Ah, and who are you? Cormac it is a little odd of you to be dragging someone along like this, unless he is a captive of some kind?”

This caused the entire group to stop and stare at them, prompting Connor to send Shay a small glare. Honestly, it was not as though he planned on leaving the group entirely, simply following them… At a distance… perhaps along the rooftops, as the buildings were particularly dense in this part of New York. “He is not a captive, but Master Kenway wanted to make sure that the lad did not slip off during the time that we had guests. Connor here is a little shy.”

Connor huffed a little and sent Shay a glower before answering “I am not shy. I simply wanted to make sure that all of the arrangements that he had tasked me with to ensure were put into motion before the guests arrived at the manor were completed. Had you allowed me to speak, I would have told you.”

“You had time to speak lad, you simply chose not to, and the Grandmaster wanted to make sure that you and our guests spoke with one another.” Shay countered with a small snort. The young Assassin was not going to get away from direct interaction so easily, not matter how he tried to subtly escape. Not that Connor was particularly good at being subtle – though being as big and tall as he was, that was not strictly the lad’s fault.

“I had hoped that the two of you would get along a bit better than this, then again perhaps not. The two of you are quite similar.” Haytham remarked with a soft sigh and a shake of his head. “Connor this is Francois-Thomas Germain, Nicholas Lafreniere, Celeste de la Serre, Adalinda Bauers, Gabriella Schnieder, Salme Weber, Antonio Gallo, Isabella Colon, Caim Ochoa, Allistair Williams, James Blackwood and Anne Smith. All of you, this is my son, Connor Ratonhnhake:ton Kenway.”

Connor stifled his surprised reaction for the most part, quietly delighted that Haytham had taken the time to figure out how to say the name that his mother had given him. Of the handful of people with whom he had told that name, only his father had taken the time to learn how to actually say it, apparently. Achilles straight up said that there was no way he would ever try to pronounce the name – which had stung just a little at the time – and Duncan… Duncan had tried, but Connor was a far simpler name to say for those who had English as a primary language. A small smile appeared on Connor’s face as he bowed slightly to the group of Templars, a hint of a smile on his face. “Good evening.”

A ripple of shock and surprise flashed through the group, and Connor could almost see the questions forming in their minds. Time to distract them “We should get moving. Curfew will begin shortly, and given the fact that the British Empire has recently put another Act into place banning the public gathering or more than five people in the street – punishable by being jailed for an indeterminate amount of time…  I suggest that we get moving. Additionally, there should be a group of British Soldiers on roving patrol should be here soon, barring an emergency of one kind or another.”

Haytham nodded in agreement at that “You are correct, of course. We should get moving lest we be accused of breaking the law.”

Between the two of them, Cormac, Lee and a blond man who Connor had never met before, they were able to get the visiting Templars to Haytham’s manor without running into any trouble.


	8. Chapter 8

“The Morrigan has just arrived in port father. I had been speaking with the harbormaster about where I might be able to purchase black powder for The Aquila when She sails in. I am aware that She is the flagship of the Colonial Templar fleet. Perhaps the anticipated but unwanted guests are aboard? Or perhaps the Captain has the responses from the other branches.” Connor informed Haytham, holding onto a street sign as he spoke to the other through the open window on the second floor of the Green Dragon Tavern. His unexpected appearance had, to Connor’s amusement, startled the Colonial Templars his father had been speaking with. Since the news of the impending visit Connor had taken to wearing his mercenary uniform, rather than his Assassin Robes. Today was no exception.

“Thank you for the information. The Captain- unless something has changed drastically or without my knowledge – is a good ally of mine and someone I consider a friend. It was mentioned in one of the letters that they would try to contact one of the captains of the colonial fleet. I did not know if they were able to do so, as most of them were on this side of the Atlantic, Shay being one of the few who are… Or were not.” Haytham answered casually “You should either come inside, or continue moving upwards, as there are a group of city guards who should be about to be able to see you dangling out a window shortly.”

“I will continue moving. I have spoken with one of my recruits, and will speak with the others who are stationed in this city. Besides, it seems as though your own people are… A little reluctant to be any closer to me than they already are. Not that I blame them.” With that, Connor sped out of view of the window.

\------

Jamie and Jacob had taken the news of the potential difficulties arrival as well as Connor had hoped they would. As neither of them (nor Dobby) had full Assassin’s robes to wear, it did help them blending in. As each of the three of them was a minor local leader, they knew to step carefully in order to avoid drawing Templar attention to themselves. They were recently and tentatively allied to the colonial Templars… But that did not mean that they would in the slightest bit begin to think about trusting unknown, foreign Templars.

Jacob in particular, did not like the idea of Connor staying closer to his father while they were there. He was quite certain that this could all be a very clever ploy on the Templar Grandmaster’s part to try and capture Connor to get information on their fledgling but persistent  Brotherhood. After all, there were hints and clues to the fact that there had once been a thriving and well placed Brotherhood… But somehow, about ten to fifteen years ago, they were all slaughtered to a man – except for Achilles who had been crippled.

Shot point blank in the right knee, by Haytham Kenway. In a strange show of mercy, the Templar Grandmaster left Achilles alive – although why remained a mystery to all seven of them. From what they had been able to uncover, the fall of the previous Colonial Brotherhood – and not just in the English Colonies, but in the French as well, from what Aveline and her Assassins had been able to uncover as well had to do in part to the efforts of the Templar Rite. Orchestrated and lead by his lover… Connor was also certain that Haytham had a hand in the deaths of the Assassins personally as well. For while his father did not seem to revel in causing death or pain… he did not shy away from using harsh methods to get what he wanted.

Connor had gently reminded both of them that it had been previously agreed that he would stay closer to Haytham while the foreign Templars did their business in the colonies. Their blood relation was an easy explanation and Connor might be able to glean information as to what they were trying to do and pass along that information to the others so that it could be dealt with, or the damage done minimized. “If we keep our end of the deal, it should give the Templars more incentive to trust us. Or at least, trust in the fact that we are as determined to keep the truce, so long as they do not renege on their side of the deal.”

“You are correct, Connor. But this still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I wish we could more closely observe them… But if your father did give you good information on the reputations and abilities of the Templars coming to the colonies from the other Rites… They should be able to figure out quickly that they are being observed, and will not take well to such.” Jamie grumbled, scowling a little as he shifted about.

“Nothing about this situation is ideal. However, should we get through this with the truce intact, perhaps some of the more reticent of the Templars will be less likely to cause minor problems for us as we try to forge a new path. Endless war is not an option that will provide freedom and peace to the civilians.” Connor answered, well understanding both of theirs’ frustration and hesitance.

“And if this truce turns into something more permanent. Would you be able to make peace with the fact that Kenway will never let you kill Lee… At least not without the miserable arse turning traitor? Then again, from what you told us of Church’s fate, Kenway would more likely kill him, himself.” Jacob asked quietly, carefully watching his mentor’s face.

A dark scowl appeared on Connor’s face as he thought about the bastard who had done horrible things “I… I am not certain that my father is aware of the reason why I hate Lee so much. Haytham Kenway is a complex and inscrutable person. However in the time that I have spent living with him in the last few months… As much as either one of us stay in one place long enough to do so… I am fairly certain he would never order the burning of my village, nor tormenting a child to get the information of where the village is. I have yet to bring it up, however.”

“Ah, I see. I truly hope that you are correct.” Jacob answered earnestly. It would badly hurt Connor if the burgeoning hope within the young man about Kenway was crushed. Neither one of them thought that Kenway was someone to do such a thing – after all, his methods were generally much more subtle and burning of native villages was something that the British Army did towards the end of the Seven Years War, destroying every village they came across, more or less while claiming that they were hurting only French-allied villages. As if doing such a thing against those who had thrown in their lot with someone who might treat them better was a crime enough to justify such a horrendous thing.

“As do I. I am going to check on Dobby once again, before looking for the strange Templars.” Connor said quietly, starting to head out. “Stay safe and keep low, both of you.”

They nodded in acknowledgment as they left for their homes.

\-----

Dobby was fine, of course. Not that Connor had thought that she might find trouble that she could not get herself out of while he checked on the other two, after being forewarned about increased danger within the city.

He wandered through the city, occasionally checking around him with his second sight to double check that there were no new targets, or that the soldiers’ guarding patterns had not been disturbed recently, as it would be… Irritating to deal with angry or suspicious guards, simply because Connor looked guilty. The city still provoked a sense of awe within Connor, though he knew well that many suffered within the walls, and while some of the structures that the colonists had built were impressive… Why then, were there orphaned children who begged and stole for enough coin to eat? Surely there must be a way for such suffering and sorrow to be alleviated somewhat. Then again, the cost of that might not be something those with the means were willing to pay, simply because it was not profitable for them.

Connor shook himself as he noted that the day was definitely heading towards the afternoon. As per their agreement, Haytham would have until shortly before nightfall today to speak with the foreign Templars without him being present or close enough to overhear their conversations. It was a concession that Connor had made in exchanged for being presented as a trusted naval mercenary captain as well as a tracker, rather than pretending to be a full Colonial Templar as his father had initially supposed as a way for his presence to be explained. It meant that he would not be able to hear more of the planning sessions between the Templars – then again it was highly unlikely that Haytham would allow that. The Grandmaster would have him sent off on a mission to get something, or to fetch or dispatch someone, rather than at the table in the meeting.

Neither one of them was at all certain if they wanted the strange and supposedly infamous Templars to find out about their blood relation. While it might prove useful to explain his presence close to Haytham, they might try to pit the two of them against one another, and given that they got along with variable degrees of success… These agents might succeed in part. As for how well known in the shadow war these newcomers were, Connor did not know much about the state of the Brotherhood outside of the colonies, much less the Templar Order. He did not have the time or resources to even attempt to gauge such a thing. Perhaps after the war in the colonies was over and if things settled down, he might see how the other chapters of the Brotherhood on the other side of the Atlantic were fairing. Perhaps whilst on a trip with Duncan back to his homeland, or taking up the offer that Marquis de Lafayette had extended to him to visit him in Paris, after the war was over and if they all survived.

If Connor did run into Irish or French Assassins, the possibility was rather high that they would view him – one claiming to be a Brother from the English Colonies, after the Colonial chapters had been so thoroughly and utterly destroyed with more than a little suspicion and hesitance. Additionally, there was a chance that he might once again run into the Templar Agents once again who were visiting, if Haytham did continue with the idea that they should continue living once they leave the colonies. Connor disliked killing others unless necessary, but the thought of them going back to their masters with any sort of information on how things were being run here… Sat decidedly unwell with the young master Assassin. Not that they would know the true state of the colonies if all went according to plan.

A voice called out to Connor from behind him “You are Connor, aye?” From a side street from whence his name was called was a tall, red and black clad Templar – by the cross on the belts he wore.

“Yes, I am… Shay Patrick Cormac, I presume?” The Assassin responded, turning towards the other and moving closer to Cormac. Connor did not particularly want to interact with the Templar, but his father had spoken of Shay in fond terms (and no, he was not jealous. That would be ridiculous and petty) and Connor was curious about the man.

“That would be me. The Grandmaster sent me after you to see where you had wandered off. There are a lot of visitors in New York, and the inns are all full – except in the roughest neighborhoods, and he does not feel as though the guests I brought home with me should be risked in such a way, so Master Kenway will be playing host to his guests in his manor. He wanted me to tell you that, as well as to say that he would like to introduce you to them.” Shay answered with good humor, as an unspoken question of why on his lips and easily read.

“Did Rake:ni tell you that in the presence of these guests, or alone?” Connor asked quietly. Supposedly Cormac knew a couple of the native languages – Mohawk among them. If this was true, then he should know the meaning of the word he spoke.

“R-… He asked me to find you just after speaking with these guests – they were close by and might have overheard. I can see why he might not want… Ah. Come along lad, please? I certainly do not want your father to be worried about you wandering about in New York – there is all sorts of trouble to be found.” The Enforcer spluttered, eyes widening a little as he took in the information, quietly stunned. Shay could see Haytham’s face in Connor’s as well as the broadness of the lad’s shoulders and his impressive height. “Do you have your father’s eyes?”

One of his eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise – few enough of his father’s inner circle were aware of that ability, for Cormac to know…Just how close had the two of them been? The not-jealousy tightened into a possessive and uncertain knot in his chest that made breathing difficult for Connor for a couple of moments before he got a hold of himself “That entirely depends on one’s point of view.” He did switch between his normal sight and his second sight for a few moments while looking Cormac directly in the eyes. Cormac shone a steady gold with red along the edges.

“That it does. Come along lad, the Grandmaster probably has a few tasks for you to do – probably making sure that enough provisions are in the manner for the good dozen of them who will be staying with the two of you.” Cormac remarked, hazel eyes sparkling with amusement and contemplation. Shay decided to allow Connor to see his own second sight.

“Oh! I… I did not realize… Rake:ni did not say… Ah… I knew that the two of you were good friends from the fond way he spoke of you… You are the only other person apart from him who I have met with second sight.” Connor partially lied, staring at the other with open curiosity as he followed the Templar. Aveline had second sight, but as far as his father knew, Shay was the only other person Connor had met who possessed second sight as well. “Father has not decided whether or not to reveal to the visiting… Guests how he and I know one another, apart from the fact that he contacted me to hunt down the traitor, Church a little under a year ago and dispatch him… As well as returning the supplies he had stolen from the Patriots as a show of good intent towards them.”

Shay was a little skeptical as to how well that was going to be hidden – as the two Kenways looked remarkably alike, except for skin tone. Put the two of them side by side and those trained in espionage and information gathering should be able to recognize that there was a similarity between the two of them. Particularly since Connor was in a dark blue uniform and wearing a tricorn hat. He looked so much like Haytham it was mildly disconcerting to Shay that he had not immediately recognized the potential relation. “If you are trying to keep that hidden, then perhaps you should not wear the hat. You look quite a bit like Master Kenway , especially in the hat.”

Connor blinked at Shay, a little bit stunned by the other’s good humored reaction and uncertain just as to how to respond being told he looked like his father. “I… I see. Thank you for the warning. Are they at the mansion yet, or is Rake:ni still holding court at the Finnegans’ tavern?”

Shay chuckled at Connor’s response “They are still at the tavern – and will be for a while longer yet. I am guessing that you would like to drop off the hat and to check on the supplies so that the guests will be well treated and comfortably accommodated?”

The mentor Assassin nodded at that “Yes… There should be enough rooms in the manor for the guests to stay – they will likely have to share rooms. Are you going to be staying at the manor as well, or aboard The Morrigan or… Elsewhere?”

“Master Kenway has extended an invitation for my first mate and I to be staying at his manor as well, and I am fairly certain that Gist would be happy to sleep in a bed on dry land. We have been at sea for the better part of a year, and a change of scenery will do us both good, I think. The two of us will be sharing a room and helping with the other guests.” Shay answered cheerfully as they walked to Haytham’s New York mansion.


	9. Chapter 9

Two months passed with agonizing slowness for Connor. The Templars were a fractious bunch, split along country of origin and ideological lines. Germain, Bauers, Schnieder, Colon and Gallo in particular appeared to be the most hard-line of the Templars. Utterly convinced in the righteousness of the Templar cause and militant in the way that it should be carried out. They wanted all Assassins to be killed, or to be broken and shattered so thoroughly that the person could no longer cease to function in society in any capacity whatsoever. He had heard them joking about it more than once (He had not hidden in his father’s bedroom afterwards after hearing that the first time. That would be ridiculous and suspicious seeming). Lafreniere, de la Serre, and Weber seemed to favor a more balanced approach to trying to rule the world, and like Haytham, were completely against using the Pieces of Eden to try and impose their will on the peoples they sought to rule. Ochoa… Connor could not get a good read on, and spoke only when directly asked a question, but the man watched everyone with an intense gaze. No one liked the English Templars, and they fought with one another as much as they argued with everyone else.

Everyone, but Haytham, whom all of them held a great deal of respect for… The English Templars were terrified of Haytham, however and skittered from one side of the room to the other, trying to be as far away from the colonial Grandmaster as they could get – and were not the slightest bit subtle about it either. Connor had been incredibly tempted more than once to point out that the three of theirs’ cowering only amused his father… And with the way they clung to one another, would make it easier, if his father decided to kill them – as a good shot from a pistol or shot gun and at least two of them would be very injured. But saying such a thing would help no one whatsoever, and Connor was not cruel enough to strip even a Templar of their illusions of safety in such a way.

Although… Herding Templars was not Connor’s idea of a good time. However, Haytham had left with Williams, Bauers and Pitcairn, heading for Boston. Several Templar Agents had been accused of being Patriot spies by a group of British Soldiers, and were due to be tried and hung for their crimes if and when they were found guilty. The rest of the visiting Templars had decided that they wanted to explore New York, and as Lee had taken half of the visitors with him on a tour… Connor was stuck with the other half.

He had no real feelings of animosity or contempt for any of them… Except for the fact that he got stuck with Germain who was one of the staunchest of the hard-liner Templars and there was something… Off about the man. It did not upset him that the man had mismatched eyes, but there was an unsettling presence about him that put Connor’s teeth on edge and the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Germain was an eloquent, charming and silver-tongued man, who was very good at persuading people to his way of thinking. Or so Connor had been told, but the more time that he spent in Germain’s company, the more agitated and mistrustful the mentor Assassin felt towards the French Templar.

Germain was speaking with a fruit vendor, negotiating the price for some fresh apples that had caught his eye. Blackwood was bickering with de la Serre about where they should go next, drawing Colon into the argument as it started to heat up. Connor headed towards the three Templars, noting with some dismay that all three had their hands on their swords and appeared to be close to drawing their weapons when a hand unexpectedly and rather heavily landed on one of his shoulders.

Connor grabbed the hand that touched him and in the blink of an eye he had twisted whoever was fool enough to try and grab him without permission, flipping them over his shoulder and pinning the person to the ground and drawing a tomahawk (not his Assassin’s Tomahawk, which was safely ensconced in Achilles’ manor in Homestead) leveling it at the idiot. His sight had shifted to his second sight and the figure he had pinned was a steady gold. He raised the blade, preparing to strike when a familiar voice called out to him.

“Oi! Ratonhnhake:ton! No murdering the guests, by order of the Grandmaster. By your father.” Cormac called out, carefully approaching the young Assassin, having seen the brief exchange. It was likely that the younger man had only been startled, coupled with the fact that he had an aversion to touch, Ochoa was lucky the lad was more merciful than Master Kenway was. The Grandmaster might have accidentally gutted the poor bastard with his hidden blade for unexpected contact in a public place like this.

Connor shook his head a little, sight returning to normal as a rather pale looking Ochoa stared up at him. He sheathed his tomahawk and let the other go, giving him enough space to get up on his own. “Do not attempt to touch me without my permission, and certainly not from behind. It would not be the first time that someone has attempted to attack me from behind and I do not startle well.”

“My apologies, brother. I did not mean to surprise you in such a way.” Ochoa responded quietly enough so that only Connor heard him. The Templar spoke more loudly “I did not mean to offer any offence.”

“None taken, I simply do not enjoy being grabbed suddenly in a public place by a stranger.” Connor answered, understandably surly… Was Ochoa trying to figure out if he was an Assassin by using a code phrase? Did that mean that Ochoa was…? The commotion had attracted the attention of the other visiting Templars – and they moved towards Ochoa and Connor.

Germain called out, voice full of good humor “I see that you enjoy being touched about as much as your father does, Connor. Mister Ochoa I do hope that you realize that startling a Kenway is never a good idea. His father might have accidentally stabbed you, but then Connor is more tolerant of our different quirks. For your patience, I do thank you.”

Ochoa nodded, seemingly pacified by that response and Connor was fairly certain that he was supposed to thank Germain for his words… But he very sincerely did not want to. Smarm and smug manipulation oozed off of the French Templar. He did need to keep up the mask of Templar-sided mercenary and spoke up “Thank you. I hope I did not hurt you, mister Ochoa.”

“Just my pride, a little. You are quite strong.” Caim responded, sending Connor a small, reassuring smile. He noted the way that Connor’s face tightened as Germain spoke to them, and the brief look of intense dislike that Connor sent at Germain’s back after the others all turned away from them, back to squabbling with one another, or hunting for apples. This exchange cemented in his mind that this was the Connor he had been sent to find, although why the young man was playing the role of dutiful son to Kenway… Ochoa could not fathom.

\----

The day could not pass fast enough, in his opinion. Once everyone was back in Kenway’s manor, and settled for the evening, Connor once again vanished. Ochoa had a feeling he knew where the younger Assassin had gone. The grounds in the back of Kenway’s mansion were a couple square acres of largely untouched land, almost a wilderness in the tamed and carefully controlled section of New York. There was a high brick fence that marked the edges of the Grandmaster’s lands, but apart from that, there was little to mark the area as owned by anyone. It was a beautiful and centering bit of grace within such a large, claustrophobic and chaotic but controlled city.

Ochoa took to the trees, noting that there was a subtle dip and sway further into the tree line that likely showed the tall young Assassin’s position – or at least movement. Cormac was playing host and would be until Connor came back later in the evening, as a prearranged agreement that all of them had noticed. Pretending to be a Templar, to believe in their ideals and want as they wanted was something that Caim had used as a mask to subtly subvert the Spanish Rite for well over twenty years.

Connor had yet to be found out to be an Assassin due to three things, mainly. One he had been claimed and agreed to the notion that he was Kenway’s son – and why would the son of Haytham Kenway of all people be an Assassin? It was patently ridiculous. At least in the minds of the Templars, who were much more likely to take Kenway at his word. The second was that any free-spiritedness was attributed to Connor’s youth and desire to get out of his father’s shadow – which would loom large over him, had the young man grown up with his father. The third was the fact that it was known that there were no Assassins within the English Colonies – or anywhere in the New World. Not after Cormac and Kenway led a purge fifteen years ago that completely obliterated the Brotherhood.

He nearly fell out of the tree branch he was balancing on when a voice called out to him “I did not realize that you could tree-climb Ochoa. It is not a skill that many Templars choose to develop, from what I have seen.”

Ochoa clutched at the branch, swaying dangerously, and ending up hanging upside down and staring at a mildly amused Connor who was watching him carefully. “Ah, but as I alluded to before, I am not a Templar. Neither, are you. You are a Brother.”

“I never said I was a Templar. I told you before that I work as a mercenary ship’s captain, loosely aligned with the Patriots, as a way to assist my father in furthering the goals of the Templar Order.” Connor rebutted, voice carefully neutral as he spoke those words. They did not bite his tongue as they first did as he had practiced those lines to himself, and in front of his father until he could believably say the words. “Admitting that you are an Assassin – if only to test my loyalties is a very dangerous thing to do.”

Caim dropped from the tree with as much grace as he could muster, unbuckled something from his right wrist and threw it at Connor’s feet “And how would I come by that, if I was not an Assassin?”

At his feet was a hidden blade, engraved upon the leather was the symbol of the Brotherhood of the Assassins. Connor was unmoved “Shay Patrick Cormac wields hidden blades with the same insignia upon them, as does Haytham Kenway. Both of whom are Templars through and through. If you believe I am an Assassin, and you wish for me to think that you are an Assassin you are going to have to do better than that.”

“You definitely sound like you have been trained by Achilles Davenport. We were uncertain as to whether or not Kenway let him live or not. The Colonial Brotherhood’s main headquarters – unless it was  moved since the last time I have been here – is Davenport manor. Davenport manor is three day’s travel from here on horseback, a week on foot in a valley enclosed on three sides by mountains, nearby a small bay.” Caim paused for a couple of moments, to let his words sink in. He was watching Connor carefully, wanting to make sure that the other was not close to attacking him before continuing “Your ship – The Aquila was an Assassin’s ship before she almost sank fifteen years ago in an altercation with British-Allied Templars. The first mate – unless the old sea dog died – is Robert Faulkner, who while he does not wear the Assassin’s robes, is an Assassin in all but name. Cormac has told no Templar where Davenport manor is, likely due to what remaining loyalty he feels or once felt to the man. Including Haytham Kenway. Do you want me to go on? The chapters of the Brotherhood in Spain, France, England and Prussia have all heard rumors that there is a solitary Assassin named Connor who has been causing a great deal of trouble for Kenway. You match the description of that Connor very closely.”

Connor stared hard and searchingly at the older man for a long while, trying to decide whether or not the other was telling the truth. Eventually he spoke quietly “I… I find myself believing you, and yes, I am the Assassin of whom you seek. You come under the Templar banner, and in the clothes of one. Did you kill the Templar and take his identity? What of the other two Spanish Templars?”

“I have been undercover for the better part of twenty years, sending information to my Brotherhood about the Templars’ plans, as well as trying to weaken their grasp in Spain as well as to try to isolate them from the other Templar Rites.” Ochoa responded honestly. “Why does Kenway claim you as his son? What does he have on you, that you play out this farce?”

“The Colonial Brotherhood of Assassins and Templar Order have a truce with one another. He warned me of the arrival of the foreign Templars, and as a favor to him, as well as to try and gain some information on the members of the other Rites who are currently here, I am helping to make sure that they keep out of trouble, and do not find out what all is going on in the English colonies.” Connor answered truthfully. He was uncertain as to how to break the news that they were father and son from the older Assassin. Connor was uncertain as to whether or not he was going to tell Ochoa that it was true… Not unless he felt that it would be safe to do so. He was already risking enough as it was.

The Spaniard closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, before opening and asking in a quiet, clarifying tone. “What you are saying is, that the Assassins and Templars in this area are… Allied with one another?”

“Yes. It is a tentative alliance, but we have been allied with one another for almost nine months now. Kenway warned me about the potential arrival of you and the other Templar representatives were coming so that the others could hide. As Kenway has seen me in my uniform – as have a couple of others, I was chosen to be the Assassin to… Aid them during this tense time.” Connor answered honestly, hopeful that things were going so well. Achilles had not reacted this well.

“What do you mean ‘Templar-Assassin alliance’? That is impossible! We have been fighting them for hundreds of years, to keep their tyranny and deceitful ways from causing innocents to suffer! Even if they show themselves to supposedly be reasonable for now, they will slowly try to gain more control over the populace, until everyone is either forced into their tight-fisted control… Or killed or imprisoned for being a menace to society. The idea of peace, it is a good one. But they will demand nothing less than utter submission to their doctrine. Oh, they will pretend to work with you, make moves to have it seem as if they are working alongside you, to find middle ground before stabbing you in the back, or selling you out when it is best for them.” Ochoa sputtered, growling a little at the younger Assassin, but understanding where the other was coming from. If the Templars could be reasoned with, peace and balance would be better than the vicious war that was fought between the two sides. However the Templars would never accept a compromise, only complete and unyielding surrender.

Connor had heard this particular series of arguments. From Achilles, whom he had been unable to convince that this alliance was a good idea. But he had been able to pacify his mentor with what he was going to tell Caim now. He activated his second sight, just to make sure that there was no one else around before speaking “The Templars have resources, connections and a reach that the Brotherhood does not, and will not for years, possibly even decades. They have far more people as well. There are seven Assassins of the Brotherhood. There are dozens of fully fledged Templars, and hundreds of those who are under their employ as well. They utilize our skills and ability to slip unseen. We use their resources and connections.” It was not as clear cut and professional as that… At least not with himself and Haytham…

“You do bring up several good points… You are the only Assassin they are certain is part of the Brotherhood? Have they knowingly met any of the others?” Caim responded, eyes alight and considering. Connor raised several good points, and so long as the Assassins knew more about the Templars than the Templars knew about the Assassins… It was a clever if dangerous and difficult plan.

“That is correct – they have not met any of the other Assassins – or at least, if they have, they did not and do not know that they are Assassins. I am the only Assassin contact in the colonies they have, and we will maintain that anonymity the best that we possibly can.” Connor answered, relaxing a little. “I must ask you to please, do not try to interfere in what is going on, or to try to kill any of the Colonial Templars – if you have a mission to go after any of the guests, do so.”

“I was sent here to find and speak with you, and I am glad that you have. It is a bold plan that you have, and I wish you every success. I am undercover, so any correspondence we have must be heavily encoded and rarely done.” Caim murmured, a small smile appearing on his face. “Shall we go back with our masks on to fool the Templars?”

“We must, or Cormac will go after me and drag me back to the manor.” Connor grumbled a little as they walked back to the manor, personas firmly in place.

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

The trip to Boston proved fruitful – with Pitcairn soothing the mishap with the fort commanders, and the evidence against the Templar Agents mysteriously disappearing as if it had never existed, they did not have to break anyone out of jail, nor even have to pay fines for the charges that had been leveled against them. Haytham had been prepared to negotiate for their release using currency if need be, but he was glad that it was unnecessary.

Williams and Bauers had been largely quiet during the entire affair, observing him. Were he a less confident person, he might feel a bit anxious or uncertain as to why they were doing so. As it was, Haytham did note their watchfulness, but was not bothered by it. They left New York after making sure that they had all the provisions they would need for the trip back to Boston.

Alistair spoke up quietly “How did you find out so quickly that a few of your people were in danger? I overheard the guards saying that they had been caught and wrongfully imprisoned for no more than a week and a half by the time that you arrived… Given that it take three days to get from New York to Boston on a fast horse in good weather… It is remarkable how fast you were able to get the information.”

Connor had gotten the information from one of his fellow Assassins, who had sent it via carrier pigeon to tell him of their capture. It was a much faster and more efficient way of sending correspondence, but not one that Haytham was willing to share. “News can travel quickly in the colonies, and as I do watch and listen for potential trouble with those who work for the Templar cause, it is not as odd as you seem to think.”

“Except that when we first arrived, you spoke with the local Templar leaders – they had not heard anything about what had happened to those four agents until you told them.” Bauers countered, a frown appearing on her face as she impatiently waited for Kenway to tell them the truth as to how he had found out so quickly. If the information did not come from his Templars, and it was unlikely that the fort commanders would inform Pitcairn of a handful of suspected low-level rebels… Where had he gotten the information from?

“Does it matter where I gathered the information? One of them left a letter, telling their spouse that they were being arrested and they sent a letter to the address specified by their Templar spouse.” Haytham lied easily, turning a little in his saddle and staring at the two of them directly, waiting for a response.

“Because, Grandmaster Kenway, it is well known that you killed the entire inner circle of the English Rite a little over twenty years ago. Your reasons for doing so have been never made clear to anyone. You killed them using the Assassin’s blade you carry to this day – and there are whispers that the Brotherhood has gained a foothold in the English and French colonies on this side of the world. That there is at least one Assassin who goes by the name of Connor.” Williams ground out, hands clenching around the reigns in his hands tightly, shaking a little. Grandmaster Birch could be cruel, but he had been a highly intelligent and effective leader. Kenway had been one of Birch’s favorites and had been loyally following his orders until he had come back from Istanbul. The English Rite had still fully not recovered from the loss. “And Connor happens to be the name of your son.”

Bauers shifted a little, urging her horse closer to Haytham’s face hard and deeply suspicious “In addition to that, this son of yours seems to barely tolerate all of our presence and has a willfully wild streak which you seem to have done nothing to attempt to curb. He is suspicious of all of us and occasionally outright hostile when startled. He climbs much better than any Templar I have met, including myself. Explain yourself! Is he the Assassin who we have heard of, and if so, what games are the two of you playing!”

“Connor was raised by his mother and her village until he was a teenager. The Mohawk are excellent climbers and tree-runners, using the canopy to hunt and evade wolves and other predators with more ease than we who travel on horseback, or on foot. Birch and his inner circle were smearing the name of the Templar Order and acting in a manner that would poison the populace of England against us. Freedom appeals to him as it appeals to all youths, a fantasy that while it does sound wonderful in theory… Often means the suffering and exploitation of many in practice.” Haytham answered back, still infuriatingly calm. “I came by these blades after killing an Assassin. They are excellent short range weapons that are easily hidden. It is unfortunate that they are difficult enough to make that only a highly skilled weaponsmith can make them, as otherwise I would have quite a few more of them created for use by my agents who occasionally require the use of a stealthy, short-range weapon.”

“The name of his ship.” Williams spat, livid at the thought of Kenway trying to get away with colluding with the Brotherhood. “And the first mate The Aquila and Robert Faulkner. Before you and Cormac destroyed the previous English Colonial Brotherhood, that ship was the flagship of their fleet and he was their first mate. Are you trying to tell me that Robert Faulkner would willingly work under the direction of a Templar-allied mercenary captain? That he would allow his precious ship to be sullied in such a fashion? I have crossed blades with that stubborn arse in the past. He is loyal to a fault and would never abandon the Creed that the Assassins profess to, even at the cost of his life. Even if it meant that his precious ship was repaired to full working condition.”

“That is all quite true. But what is it that you are asking?” Haytham asked, calm as ever as he waited for their answers with almost insulting patience.

“Are you working with the new incarnation of the chapter of the Assassins’ Brotherhood in the English Colonies?!” Bauers demanded, her eyes narrowing as her left hand gripped the hilt of her sword in anticipation.

“And if I was? Assassins can be highly useful, if utilized and approached in the correct manner. Or manipulated subtly.” Kenway answered, still calmly amused, watching them both.

“Then you are a traitor to the Templar cause, and we will bring you up on charges before the others to decide what will be done with you, former Grandmaster Haytham Kenway.” Williams announced “Surrender your weapons to us, and we will not have to fight and disarm you. Resist and you will be injured.”

“What is it that Templars seek? Order, purpose and direction. We seek to protect humanity from themselves and ensure peace. How are we to do that, if at every turn, we are fighting and killing and being killed by the Brotherhood of Assassins? We have been fighting them unsuccessfully for nearly a thousand years, if not longer. War is the opposite of what we stand for, and in areas that we control, war and major disharmony is attempted to be corrected and contained, if not done away with entirely. The first of war has proven to be a fruitless and bloody endeavor, with both sides gaining temporary and often Pyrrhic victories.” Haytham pointed out, trying to dissuade them from what they had in mind. He had a good point, but then again, he was well known for his silver tongue. “Extending the hand of… Well, not friendship, but truce has proved fruitful in the months that we have set aside fighting one another for working towards common goals.”

“The Assassins are harbingers and creators of chaos, misery and bloodshed, the fact that you would even consider allying yourself with them proves to us how far you have fallen from the ideals of the Templar Order. If you will not surrender your weapons, we will take them by force.” Williams warned, giving the former Grandmaster one last chance to surrender his weapons, hoping that Kenway would be reasonable. It was not entirely the man’s fault – being tempted by the prospect of getting to know the only family one had was something that even the staunchest Templar might fall for… And young Connor had an earnest sort of gentleness to him that was endearing.

“I will not be surrendering my weapons. Was this the entire purpose of your trip here? To see if I had supposedly left the Templar Order, or betrayed our ideals? Or is this arrogant presumption something the two of you have come up with on your own? You will find if either of you attempts to take my place, that they will not listen to you, and that you will be dead by the end of the week, if not the day. If not by my people, then at the hands of the Assassins here. We have a truce, but I have a feeling that you will seek to try to break it if you even could take my place.” Scoffed Haytham, a hand on his own sword hilt as he waited for their response, tensing somewhat.

“We decided this as we realized what was going on here. Neither of us is going to stand for this, traitor! Your stubbornness will be your undoing.” Bauers snarled. Crouching forwards, not quite resting on the saddle of the horse she was on, Adalinda charged at Kenway, drawing her blade and swinging heavily towards his left side as he did so, intent on knocking him off of his horse, towards Williams.

Kenway read the blow, however and leapt off of his horse, tackling Williams who had been closer of the two of them, as well as non-moving, extending his hidden blade and slashing at his right arm in an attempt to disable the other’s sword-arm.

Williams cursed and twisted, trying to grapple Haytham and avoid the deadly blade in the traitor’s left hand, causing them both to fall off of the horse and onto the ground with a painful thud that winded both men for a couple of seconds. The two of them brawled on the ground, each trying to pin the other on the ground. Haytham had managed to get the upper hand on Williams, starting to press his hidden blade into the other Templar’s throat when the thundering sound of hooves split the two of them apart as Haytham jumped and dodged out of the way.

Adalinda urged her horse to a galloping speed, swinging her sword up and over in a heavy, two-handed strike, intending to hit Kenway’s unprotected back, missing as the bastard dodged… But not completely, as she felt the tip of her blade bite past cloak and into the flesh of his back.

Haytham stumbled for a moment, drawing his pistol, aiming and firing at Adalinda, scowling as the horses scattered in panic at the loud, sudden sound as Williams had realized what he was doing and had dragged her off of the horse, avoiding a deadly blow – but the bullet hit her lower left leg. His back stung painfully, and he felt a small trickle of blood sliding down his back, but the injury felt minor, and he needed to finish this, if he was going to survive.


	11. Chapter 11

Haytham was panting heavily as he leaned against a nearby tree, glad that with a whistle, his horse came back to him, nickering as if scolding him for being so noisy. He dug through his saddlebags, grabbing a roll of fresh bandages and hastily wrapping the wound on his torso. While the wound was not deep, it stretched from the top of his left hip, to just below his ribs on the right side. He had Williams – who lay dying ten feet from him, gurgling his last breaths from his slit throat – to thank for this wound and the bullet wounds in his upper right arm – the bullets had gone clean through, and had avoided hitting the bone, but even so, his hands shook from the pain and his mind would begin to swim from the blood loss if he wasn’t careful.

Bauers – whom he had shot through the head at point blank range – he had dragged into some dense bushes already, hiding the body the best that his exhausted mind could manage. Williams he would leave by the side of the road, having taken everything out of the other’s pockets and made it look like as though he had been ambushed and killed by bandits. She had managed to catch his back again, this time a terribly painful cut along the middle of his back as well as a couple of stab wounds in Haytham’s legs.

He had… He had to get moving. His sounds were as well-bandaged as his clumsy fingers were going to allow, and he ate and drank as much food and drink as he could stand – to keep his body from shutting down completely – and he barely managed to get on his horse, all of his wounds protesting in a symphony of agony as he did so.

The next few days blurred together in a haze of pain, hunger and thirst as he urged his horse to move as fast as it could muster, without killing the beast. As much as sleep dragged at his mind, Haytham refused to rest until he was back in New York, back to relative safety. He was fairly certain that Williams and Bauers had not confided their concerns about him supposedly being a traitor to the others, but Haytham was uncertain, and if they thought they could take his Connor from him… Take his order… They were wrong.

Haytham knew he was in trouble on the dawn of the… Fifth? Day. He should have made it back to New York by now… Or at least found a small settlement. He knew that he had been traveling in the correct direction the entire time, and that his horse had not wandered. But he felt so very, very cold, and he could not stop shivering. The pain in his wounds was starting to get worse as well, and the small part of his mind that was not stumbling around in a deep fog knew that infection had possibly set in.

The trees had thinned, and the ground beneath him had broadened and turned to an earthen brown in the way that the road to a town or a village would, filling Haytham with hope that he might find some help here.

A pair of men, one tall and one a bit shorter stopped and stared at him. Haytham was about to call a greeting, when the darkness that had been eating at the edges of his vision filled in the rest of his sight, as he felt a slight breeze across his face.

\---

Terry and Godfrey had been on their way to the inn when they heard the hoof-beats of a horse. They had been expecting Connor – the only one who regularly traveled far enough to need a horse, as everyone else was in town, and those who sold their wares did so via one of Connor’s ship, as it was less risky than trying to do so by themselves due to the bandits that plagued the area… As well as the soldiers on both sides of the conflict for the future of the colonies.

Who they saw instead was a black-and blue clad, silver-haired man. His clothes looked as though they were once fine – but dust and black splotches that looked suspiciously like blood covered worrying amounts of the man’s clothes. The stranger blinked at the two of them, opened his mouth, as if preparing to say something… Before his eyes rolled back in his head and the poor bastard fell off of his horse.

They rushed over to the fallen man, noting immediately that there were bandages covering the blotchy areas, and that a cautious touch to the stranger’s forehead from Terry revealed a burning fever. “I will go contact Dr. White, this poor man needs help.” The red haired man muttered “You’re bigger than I am, and damn is he tall so you will be able to carry him better. This horse looks almost as bad as her rider, poor thing.”

Godfrey nodded, picking up the stranger and realizing two things. One this stranger was armed with a sword, a pair of pistols and one of the hidden blades that Connor wore. The other was that the stranger’s clothes were indeed made out of a fine material. Miss Ellen had only recently been able to purchase silk, and the soft material felt the same as the stranger’s. Whoever this man was, he came from money, or had a wealthy patron. He ran after Terry with as much speed as he dared, not wanting to jar the injured man out of sleeping. Interestingly enough, the mare followed closely behind him, occasionally nibbling on his hair, seemingly anxious about her rider.


	12. Chapter 12

Strange hands held him down as another set took his hidden blade him. Strange voices spoke in soothing tones, trying to say that they were not going to hurt him, and that they were taking the blade so he would not be hurt further.

Liars! If they wanted to help him, why did they take his sword and pistols from him? They were going to attack him, to try and kill him. He hurt everywhere and it was freezing.

…

They forced him to drink some foul-smelling and even worse tasting liquid. They said that it would help him feel better, to get better. He drank it only because his throat was so dry and hot it burned.

They were removing his bandages – while holding him down, so that he could not stop them. Where had his strength gone? He should be able to overcome two sets of strange hands… It was so, so cold.

…

More foul liquid, and they took the bandages away again. The pain was lessening, and the awful liquid helped to calm his throbbing head, and so Haytham quietly took the drink, submitting to the changing of the bandages.

But he watched them. He watched them very closely, and hissed a little, his second sight activating as their steady blue-grey forms were suddenly made of substantial smoke. He relaxed, knowing that he was with allies. Why he did not recognize their voices, or know their faces, Haytham could not understand.

…

Haytham groaned unhappily as he woke from a series of very strange and disjointed dreams, stretching and hissing just a little as his injuries all made themselves known to him all at once. He looked around the candle-lit room, trying to figure out which of the rooms of his mansion he was in. Haytham found (as he slowly lifted his hands and arms to figure out where he was injured there, despite the pain. His head pounded angrily when he tried to sit up, besides the wounds on his back and stomach flared with worrying amounts of pain when he tried to do that as well) to his distress that his hidden blades had been taken from him.

He activated his second sight, looking around the room and through the walls, trying to determine if there was anyone close enough so that if he called out, he would be heard. He was using his second sight to make certain that it was safe for him to call out. There was a possibility that one of the guests might hear him, rather than one of his Templars, or Connor. There was a steadily blue shining form in the other room, and there appeared to be no one else in the immediate area…

From what Haytham could tell, the place he was in was not his New York mansion – the dimensions of the room and what he could see of the house he was in were off. Still, he was incredibly thirsty and his stomach could not be rumbling any louder, complaining for food. Still, it would seem odd if he knew someone was there, since he had likely been found by a complete stranger “Hello? Is there anyone here?”

A voice called out to him “Yes, someone is here!” And hurried footsteps could be heard, moving closer to Haytham.

The Templar tried to get up, wanting to at least sit up to see the person coming closer, but his head swam terribly and his wounds burned with terrible pain, forcing a small hiss to escape Haytham’s lips as he eased back down onto the cot, closing his eyes partially as the room gradually went back in focus. “Ah… What is your name? I have you to thank I suppose for putting me back together.”

He could see a tall, bespectacled man entering the room. From what Haytham could see of the room behind the door, this person was a doctor, from the tools and tinctures the other was in the process of making. “I am doctor Lyle White, and I have been helping to keep the fever you have been suffering from taking your life… As well as tending to your injuries. May I have your name? During the past three days that my assistant and I have been tending to you, you speak with clarity for a few moments before the fever asserts itself once more. You have not yet given your name while asking for mine.”

“Ah, I am Haytham, and I do know that I am… Not yet recovered from my injuries and from the way my head spins I fear I may still be ill. However I am in my right mind.” Haytham answered, sighing softly at that, wondering just what nonsense he mumbled… Or what the other took to be nonsense? “I… Did have a few items with me that I do not have now… I suppose they were taken so I did not accidentally stab you or your assistant? Do… Do you know what happened to my horse? Where am I?”

Lyle listened carefully to the well-spoken man, making sure that the other did not suddenly begin to ramble strangely, or hiss mistrustful in one of what sounded like a half-dozen languages, while more or less hiding under the blanket, squinting at both of them and refusing to eat unless it was prepared in front of him from whole ingredients – medicines included. “Your weapons are beneath your bed, which if you would like, I shall retrieve for you, as I do not recommend you move for at least another three days, beyond stretching your limbs carefully. Your horse is in the stable in the mansion on the hill. You are in the room I use to monitor patients who need more careful watching, in Davenport Homestead.”

Haytham blinked at the other, a mixture of confusion and concern as he tried to figure out how he had gotten here, rather to New York. “Ah… I was headed to New York when I was attacked by a couple of bandits. They fought like military deserters, and had the weapons for being such as well. Davenport… That would not be due to the fact that the land and the mansion belongs to one Achilles Davenport, does it?” If it was true… He could be in quite a bit of danger, should the bitter old man find out that he was here, recovering and half-dead. Haytham was quite certain that the old man did not approve of the truce between the two orders, and would probably like to pay him back in kind for the injury that crippled him to ensure that he would never be a full Assassin ever again.

“Yes it does. Do you know him?” White responded, eyebrows raising a little as he looked his injured patient over with renewed interest, wondering if he knew anything about Master Davenport’s – or Connor’s – mysterious and unknown past. He was willing to bet he knew some, given that Connor and Haytham had the same sort of short range weapon and bracer.

“We… Met briefly, and it did not end well. Do… Have you met… Connor? Tall, half Mohawk, far too kind and gentle for his own good? Clever, strong and good with his hands and words… Provided that he does not get flustered…” Haytham murmured, disconcerted that he was rambling about his beloved so much, but if this man knew Davenport, and he and a small town – for a doctor this far into the Frontier had to have a small town supporting him for him to stay – it was highly likely that they knew Connor. “It is likely that Connor himself found more than a couple of you, bringing you to this safe space so that you may flourish and live well…”

Lyle stared at Haytham in stunned disbelief, the sheer warmth and affection in this stranger’s voice for Master Connor. The stern and guarded expression had completely melted away to a look of fondness and care. “You have met Connor, then. His kindness and good heart do him justice, but I was unaware that he was half-Mohawk.” Then again, Connor was noticeably lighter than the natives that Lyle had occasionally spoken with and treated, but he had not thought anything of it until now.

Some of the wariness crept back into Haytham’s face as the other seemed to try to pull himself together into some semblance of his usual countenance. “I see. If I recall the injuries I received correctly, it will take me… At least a week to heal enough to travel by horseback, two to heal fully. I am a rather active person and I apologize in advance if I snap at you. If there is anything I can do while confined to bed, I would be grateful. I do not have much currency on me currently, but I can read and write in English, French, Spanish and Latin. I… Would like to write a letter to a couple of friends of mine, as I should have been in New York at least three days ago.” There was no reason to be curt with these people, and if Connor had brought them close to Davenport manor, it meant that the other trusted them. Haytham wanted very much to learn what he could about not only Dr. White but any others who were part of this little community. Not that he was going to tell them anything of how he and Connor knew one another – he would leave introductions (whatever they might be) – to Connor.

Dr. White nodded, knowing that the spoken languages that Haytham had named did track with what little he had been able to understand when the stranger had been suffering from fever. Haytham was being a little over-hopeful in terms of how quickly he was going to heal from his injuries. Then again it was unlikely that the other was fully aware of just how badly he had been injured and how sick he had gotten. Lyle had feared that the other had caught pneumonia at the start. “I will fetch you some parchment as well as ink and quill. I am uncertain as to how quickly you will heal. You were extremely ill when Terry and Godfrey had found you, in addition to suffering from blood loss. I will ask around to see if others have need of someone who can write or read.”

“Thank you.” Haytham responded, a small and thankful smile appearing on his face. He was being friendlier than he normally would, perhaps it was because of the blood loss? Then again, if the good Doctor was one of Connor’s people there was no reason to be unfriendly, and a little curious.

\----

Haytham was entirely unsurprised at the speed at which news traveled in what must be a small village. In the five or six days that he had been lucid, He had seen what must have been every one of the skilled artisans in the small town. Each of them were varying degrees of curious and concerned for him, which was touching given that he was a stranger. Each of them seemed to know that he had a connection with Connor, although how they knew one another, not a single one of them could guess.

“How did you meet Connor?” Ellen asked curiously, having spoken with Haytham before. He was a charming and handsome man. He spoke with more eloquence than anyone she had ever met, except for perhaps Connor.

“As I have said before, Connor and I work together when he leaves this charming village. If I would be allowed to move around, I would love to see more of it, than these walls.” Haytham answered quietly, evading the question. None of them knew anything about Templars and Assassins – as they would have reacted to the Templar Cross he wore if they did.

“If Doctor White says that you can start to move around a bit, I would be happy to show you around.” Ellen responded with a small smile. She pulled out Haytham’s newly mended clothes. “I took the liberty of repairing your clothes, I hope that you do not mind.”

“Thank you very much for your help. I wish I could repay you promptly, as it is clear that you make fine clothing.” Haytham answered honestly, a soft sigh escaping him. Hopefully the messenger they assured him they sent to New York would come back soon. Then again, it was possible that the messenger had gotten killed, or was being held up by a group of soldiers out on patrol.

Maria came running in, a big grin appearing on her face. “Mama! Master Connor is here! He is looking for mysterious mister Haytham.”

* * *


	13. Chapter 13

Connor had gotten the letter from his father four hours ago. He had been helping Cormac babysit the foreign Templars, to varying degrees of success. For the most part, they did keep out of trouble, but as Haytham, Williams and Bauers did not return, the others got more and more restless, as concerns over why they were being delayed started to circulate. This was made worse when a letter from the local Templar leader stated that the three of them had left when they were supposed to, and that all three of them were whole and in good health and spirits as they left.

Lee had to go back to the Patriots, lest his absence be seen as suspicious, given that the other was one of the better tacticians that the Patriots could count on. That did not make things any easier, particularly as the two English Templars muttered about how it was treasonous towards England and English Interests for the Templars to have sided against one of the most powerful empires of the era, not to mention foolish as no colony had ever successfully broken from the empire from which they were created.

When the letter arrived – addressed to Connor specifically in his father’s hand and heavily encoded – Connor had initially been very relieved. But as he read the letter, finding out what had happened on the trip back (and where his lover was currently staying) tension and worry began to mount within Connor all the more fiercely. He told Shay privately, away from prying ears and eyes what had actually happened. As for Haytham’s location… He had merely said that Haytham felt that he was safe, and that the other was in a tiny frontier village a few days’ travel from New York.

They fed their nosy guests the line that Haytham had taken ill, and was currently resting in a small town and would return to New York when he was well enough to travel, as well as reasonably certain he would not potentially infect all of them in the relatively close quarters of the manor. Williams and Bauers were afflicted with the same illness and were taking a turn for the worse. Connor had then spoke up saying that he knew where specifically his father was staying, and if they would not mind, he would take medicine for the three of them in the hopes that he would make it in time to save at least one of the sickly travelers.

He loaded up half of his saddlebags with medicines and bandages, as the guests were watching him as he left for Homestead, telling him to tell them of their well-wishes and prayers for their sickened brethren’s return to full health in a speedy fashion. Connor promised to tell the three of them.

Germain called out as Connor was about to leave, having just gotten on his horse “What illness did you say that Master Kenway, Master Williams and Lady Bauers had? I do not quite remember.”

Connor tried not to twitch at the sound of the smarmy and irritating arsehole’s voice. While Germain was nothing less than polite and sometimes what many would view as charming… Something about the Frenchman ground on every last nerve that Connor possessed. He counted to ten mentally, as he fought not to verbally lash out at the Templar, gritting his teeth as he spat out “Some form of influenza. If you do not mind, Master Germain? I will leave to tend to my father… And the other two.” Connor lashed his horse, coaxing him into a canter.

The breeze floated Germain’s words to an equally irritated looking Shay (who was genuinely worried for his grandmaster’s health. It was something that softened Connor towards the infuriatingly perceptive Templar that the other genuinely cared for his father as a person.) “He is certainly a devoted son, Master Cormac. Almost as stubborn as his father.”

“Leave him be, Germain. The lad’s already lost his mother and it’s –“ Shay ground out. Connor did not catch the rest of the sentence, as he was both out of range and the wind shifted direction.

\----

It felt as though time stretched on for far too long, and that it took him longer than it should have to arrive at Davenport Homestead. He was worried for how his father was fairing, as it was a good possibility that Haytham had not said the full extent of his injuries, even in a coded letter, in case it was intercepted, or if Connor was forced to reveal the full contents of the letter to the others in the mansion.

He found Norris going to his mine, as it was early morning and walked towards his friend, asking “How are you?” Connor was worried what might happen if Achilles found out that his father was injured and in Homestead. His mentor had argued that trying to make peace with the Templars would only cause pain and bloodshed as Templars were treacherous and vile beings who were only loyal to their own interests. The temptation to at least attempt to kill the injured Templar Grandmaster might prove too much for his mentor, truce be damned.

“I am well. About a week back a fancy looking Englishman came into Homestead, half-dead. Dr. White has been taking care of him with Diana’s help. Haytham – as he calls himself – is still in the doc’s home. He is healing very well, and getting restless.” Norris answered cheerfully. There was a rumor going around Homestead that Haytham knew Connor well, but how and why remained a mystery.

“Thank you. I… I was about to ask. He sent me a letter saying he was here, as well as injured and recovering from illness.” Connor responded, shifting a little and looking towards Lyle’s house, quite obviously wanting to see this mysterious Haytham for himself. Connor was obviously worried for the other’s current state.

“I have to head off to the mine, Connor. I hope that you have a good day. Hopefully I will see you at the inn tonight?” Norris offered, trying to give the other a graceful way out of the conversation.

“Yes, I will be staying at Homestead until father recovers enough to return to New York. Have a good day, Norris.” Connor responded before hurrying off towards Dr. White’s house, completely unaware that he had spoken a certain word in English.

Norris stared after Connor, rooted to the spot as he reeled in shock at the revelation. He was trying to process the information when Myriam poked him with the tip of her bow, asking “What has you so startled? There are no soldiers after Big Dave again, are there?”

“Connor is here, looking for Haytham. Haytham is Connor’s father.” Norris managed out, voice full of stunned surprise.

“… Now that I think about it, the two of them do look quite a bit alike. They have the same nose and chin, as well as broad shoulders and impressive height.” Myriam responded, somewhat surprised, but feeling as though they should have figured it out sooner. From what Diana had said she had accidentally overheard Dr. White speaking to Haytham about Connor after Haytham’s fever broke, they had to know one another well. Given that one of the letters that Haytham had sent off had been addressed to Connor, it had been another clue.

* * *


	14. Chapter 14

Haytham had swung his legs over the edge of the cot he had been confined to for far too long, having successfully sat up with only a twinge of pain. His injuries were not quite fully healed, but were well enough for him to start moving. He was well aware that long periods of time confined to the bed would cause muscles to weaken, and he did not have the time to regain what might be lost.

Diana was in the front room, cleaning something from the sounds of the sloshing in the bucket and her soft humming as she worked. If he was quiet, Haytham was certain that he would be able to move around the small room to get a feel for how he was doing.

Just as he was starting to get up, however, Doctor White entered the room and rushed over, a worried from appearing on his face “Mister Haytham I must insist that you do not try to get up unattended. While you have been healing faster than any other patient I have tended to, your injuries are nothing to take lightly, and the gunshot wound in your arm might re-open if you put your weight on it, to say nothing of what might happen to your back and stomach stitches.”

“I am fine Doctor White. I simply wanted to get some fresh air. I have completed the paperwork you offered to have me do over an hour ago and I am certain that I am healed enough to start moving around once again.” Haytham rebutted, a stubborn expression flashing across his face…Not unlike the occasionally mulish expression that would appear on Connor’s when Homestead’s protector came into the village injured and in need of care.

Connor was an unusually fast healer as well. Not for the first time Lyle wondered how well the two men knew one another. He sighed a little and answered “I understand the desire to move about, particularly as you are doing much better. It is my medical opinion however, that if you try to walk around on your own at this point, you will do more harm to yourself than good. If you would like to sit up for a couple of hours and see if you can handle that, perhaps tomorrow or the next day, you should attempt moving around with assistance.”

Haytham scowled up at him at that, shifting around more on the cot, repositioning his hands and arms on either side of himself. “The gunshot did not hit bone, but merely went through my flesh. As for the injuries on my back and torso… They will linger for perhaps two or three days as surface wounds only before being healed completely. I have been more badly injured than this in the past and survived.”

“You are a lucky man, then and blessed with healing abilities beyond most. But-“ Lyle began, starting another counter-argument against Haytham moving today when both men heard the front door of the clinic open suddenly.

Diana spoke with whoever had come in, in cheerful tones, though neither could hear what she said specifically as she was speaking barely louder than the sounds of the wash.

There was a knock at the door and Connor’s voice could be heard “May I enter?”

“Of course, Connor.” Haytham answered, trying and failing to suppress a small smile appearing on his face as he was able to see his beloved for the first time in what felt like far too long. Not that he had been at all concerned for Connor’s health or safety in the time that he had spent in Boston, nor on the disastrous trip back. “I am glad to see you well. How fairs yourself and our guests?”

“I am well, as are they. We have been worried for you as you did not return from Boston when expected. You mentioned that you were attacked in the letter?” Connor answered, a worried frown appearing on his face as he moved closer to his lover, kneeling down beside the cot so that he was closer to his lover.

“Yes, I was. I was attacked by a pair of brigands… One of whom was English, the other Prussian from their accents. They came off worse in the fight, whether they are dead or alive… I do not know and frankly doubt. It was only by the timely intervention of Doctor White and his assistant Diana that I was able to survive as well as I have. Apparently I am not yet recovered enough to stand, according to the good doctor. However I am feeling much better and would like to move around.” Haytham responded, leaning into Connor’s warm frame a little, a small frown on his face.

“You should listen to Doctor White, father. He is a skilled doctor and has patched up my sailors more than a couple of times, after we have dealt with pirates and their ilk. He knows what he speaks of.” Connor cajoled gently. “If you would like some fresh air, I do not blame you. It is a beautiful day outside and the breeze ensures that one does not get uncomfortably warm in the sun. If you like, I can carry you outside.”

“Because that would not look completely ridiculous. Honestly, I…. I would like to get outside, and please stop looking at me like that, Connor. I am not about to die. You now I am far too stubborn to leave you so soon, son.” Haytham soothed, realizing that the other was far more anxious than he had first realized, pressing closer against his lover, to try and wordlessly reassure the other that he was fine. “Ellen repaired the clothes that had gotten damaged in the fight. This small town of yours is… They are all kind and good people. I am glad of that.”

Connor ducked his head a little, smiling softly at Haytham’s words. “Yes, they are. I am glad that you like my friends. Do you want me to carry you outside now, or do you want to wait for a bit?”

Lyle cut in at that point, feeling a little uncomfortable as the two of them obviously cared for one another, and the touching father-son reunion was not something that he felt that either introverted man wanted to be seen by others. “Ah, the two of you catch up? I have tasks I need to do elsewhere, so that you may have some privacy.” His suspicions that the two of them were possibly related were true. Connor had once mentioned that he had an English father, and Haytham reminded Lyle of Connor. More world-weary and suspicious, but the two were alike.

\-----

“I will not meddle in the affairs of this village, nor how it is run, unless you ask me for assistance, Connor. I had not meant to find this hidden place of safety of yours, and would not have gone looking for it, had I had an inkling that it existed.” Haytham promised quietly, as soon as he was assured that both Doctor White and Diane were out of hearing range. “These people care for you a great deal, and for that I am glad.”

“I… Thank you Haytham. Our… Guests were getting restless, with no news of you or the other two as all three of you were a week late. The local Boston leader sent a letter ahead of you, saying that you all had left the city on time and in good health. What happened?” Connor responded, slowly wrapping an arm around Haytham’s waist, wanting to be closer.

“They confronted me about several things, one of the topics being you, as they were certain you were an Assassin, one that they had been hearing rumors about… I told them that you were the Assassin they spoke of, and they demanded to know what was going on. I told them of the truce, in hopes that they might see reason. Instead they reacted with violence. I slew them both, but not without paying for it. They were almost as skilled a fighter as I am, which made fighting the both of them difficult, without the element of surprise.” Haytham explained softly, leaning against Connor more, enjoying his solid warmth. “I hid their bodies in the bushes, making it seem as though they were attacked by bandits, should they have been found before catching my horse and heading for where I thought was New York. Several days later I ended up here in Homestead. I have been aware for about six days now, and here in Homestead for nearly a fortnight according to Doctor White.”

Connor held Haytham closer as his beloved explained what had happened, anger flashing inside of him before burning away. They were dead already, and harboring resentment against the two of them would only make it more difficult for him to be civil with their remaining Templar guests. “Do you know or did they imply that they spoke with any of the others about their concerns as to whether or not I was this apparently rumored Assassin? If so, do you have a guess as to which one or ones they would speak to?”

“As far as I know, they did not share their suspicions with anyone else. In other matters… How well have you been tolerating Germain? Shay and I can barely stand his presence for longer than an hour or so. I suspect that it has to do with the fact that he has… Unusual abilities as well, though of a different kind. Instead of the second sight and increased physical abilities, Germain has the ability to manipulate others in a way I have not encountered in anyone else. As though he can directly control their minds for a short period of time and instill a false sense of loyalty and obligation in others towards himself or what he wants to do. Those of us with golden eyes appear to be unaffected.” Haytham answered, and frowned a little as he thought back on Williams and Bauers words and actions, honestly uncertain as to whether or not they would share their suspicions. “It is unlikely that they would. As they did suspect that you were the Assassin who had been causing many problems, they wanted to take you down themselves, in order to have the accolades and increased respect for fighting and killing you themselves.”

“I did note that the both of them were quite prideful in their accomplishments and occasionally tried to throw their weight and their believed importance around. Not that you allowed them to do so. Their reaction to your scolding was entertaining.” Connor chuckled softly, before realizing something. “The Homesteaders will be very curious about you, rake:ni.”

“Not in the least because we referred to one another as father and son in front of the good doctor, as well as within hearing range of his assistant, Diana. News travels fast in this small town and they were curious about me before, when I was a mysterious stranger with an unknown connection to their beloved protector.” Haytham teased gently.

“So we did… Do you mind them knowing?” Connor asked curiously.

“Not at all, if you do not. They are your people, and I… I find that I do trust them. They are an honest and open group.” Haytham answered.

\----

The two of them waited another week and a half before leaving together. Haytham had made sure to send a couple of letters three days apart to Shay, so that his Enforcer would not worry, as well as ensure that Shay could give just enough information to their guests in the hopes that they did not grow restless enough to leave and cause problems.

They had answered a good number of the questions that the Davenport Homesteaders had for the two of them, and Haytham made certain to studiously avoid the manor on the hill to the best of his abilities. Apparently Achilles did not leave the manor much at all, which aided them in hiding Haytham’s presence from the ornery Mentor.

The day that they left for New York was clear of clouds and though it was cold, the sun shone brightly down on their backs as they headed out, thanking the Homesteaders for their well-wishes and wonderful hospitality.


	15. Chapter 15

His father had been invited to several of these events in Paris by the French Grandmaster – one Francois de la Serre – in order to renew ties of friendship and camaraderie between the two branches of the Order. Or at least… That was what the letter had said, and so far, that was what it had proved to be. There had been allusions to Germain mentioning Connor to de la Serre as the charming young man who had been such a kind and considerate host while Haytham had taken ill. It had been implied in the letter that the Grandmaster – and by extension several of the other members of the French inner circle were very much wishing to meet Connor, and would Haytham please kindly consider bringing the lad along?

His beloved had initially tried to get out of it, citing that with the volatility of the region, it would be unwise for him to be so far away from the British Colonies, as the war between the Patriots and the British could change on a day to day basis, and that it would be irresponsible of him to leave while the Templars may be able to influence the outcomes of what was going on for the betterment of the Order, and the promotion of peace and prosperity for all. Unfortunately de la Serre had countered that his branch of the Order did have rather considerable influence over some of the nobility within France, and that they would be able to get them to send over ammunition and other supplies necessary for the Patriots to win the war, as the British Colonial Templars favored the Patriots over the British, as the former would be easier to influence than the latter.

Haytham had been backed into a corner at that one, as if he did refuse, it was likely that the French Rite would respond by influencing the French nobility against assisting the Patriots. So he had agreed to go, and to bring Connor along with him. After Haytham had agreed to attend, the both of them had been preparing to leave. Haytham had been able to ensure that Connor did not have to attend all of the meetings. While that would mean that Connor would not gather as much information about the activities of the French Rite, it meant that he was able to evade some of the scrutiny that he would doubtlessly be under. For Connor, the hardest part of that was trying to convince his recruits to not follow him to France. But he had managed to get them to realize that if they left, the remaining Templars would be able to do as they pleased without any of them able to potentially stop them or alter what they were doing for a more balanced approach with any degree of speed or effectiveness.

They would be taking The Morrigan, as the crew was experienced in crossing the Atlantic. Additionally, The Morrigan was the flagship of the British Colonial fleet, and it would be strange if Haytham, as the Grandmaster, did not arrive in France aboard The Morrigan unless Shay and his ship had been assigned elsewhere. As Shay had recently arrived back in the British Colonies, and both Cormac and his father had vanished for a couple of days before coming back, with the final letter from Grandmaster de la Serre – whose wife had been one of the French Templars who had visited them earlier in the year. Connor had spoken briefly with Faulkner about possibly taking his father aboard The Aquila to France. But his first mate had been dead set against it, citing the fact that the last time his father had been aboard The Aquila, he had rammed her into the Welcome because he had lost his patience. Faulkner had pointed out that it was unwise for so many of the Colonial Brotherhood’s few resources to be so far from home.

Thankfully, the trip to France had been an uneventful one. As Connor was a skilled sailor, he aided the crew of The Morrigan wherever Cormac wanted him to be. Once Shay had discovered that Connor loved the sea and sailing as well, the two of them started to get along better. Connor had been cautious while aboard the Templar flagship, wary of being pressed for information about the Brotherhood in a place where refusal to answer could mean his death. However, as none of the Templar sailors asked him anything of the Brotherhood, Connor found that he liked Shay – he was intelligent and insightful as well as kind when he was allowed to be. Gist was a bit harder for Connor to read. Gist stuck close to Haytham to ensure that he did not try to help. Connor and Shay spoke about different tactics when dealing with various kinds of weather and enemy ships… As well as occasionally trading stories about sailing with Haytham and how profoundly dangerous it could be when the Grandmaster became impatient.

“We are to wait aboard The Morrigan until our escort arrives. Paris is a large city that contains many hidden dangers.” Haytham said, going through the last letter he had received from the French Grandmaster. “You, Connor and myself will be taken to our host’s home. Gist is invited as well, but I suspect that one of the two of you would like to stay and tend to the ship and your crew.”

“Joyous news, sir. Will Gist be joining us after she and our crew have been tended to or will he be allowed to wander as he wills?” Shay asked, a touch of sarcasm in his voice. He had not been looking forwards to this. The subtle mind games and political power plays were annoying to deal with as well as treacherous to handle with any degree of success. Then again, it was going to be very entertaining to watch Connor handle all of that. Especially once the knowledge of the lad being Master Kenway’s son spread. If they did not already know from de la Serre’s wife, Lafreniere or Germain.

“It has been requested that Gist joins us once the affairs of The Morrigan and her crew are in order. Unless of course – and I am quoting the letter “Cormac feels as though his crew will cause trouble if left without the guidance of either his first mate or himself, given that some of his crew are former pirates.” It mentions more about the effectiveness of your crew in battle possibly translating to mischief when on land.” Haytham responded, amused.

An indignant look crossed Shay’s face at the unsubtle jab at the discipline of his crew. “They are well behaved! A little bit of mischief on land after being at sea for extended periods of time is to be expected. It is not as though they break the law.” Cormac continued to grumble under his breath for several minutes, still scowling.

“Is that our escort, or trouble?” Connor asked a little while later, having spotted several well dressed people. They had just stepped out of a carriage that had stopped near the docks and appeared to be heading towards them. The trio shone red in Connor’s second sight, but that did not necessarily mean they were Templars.

Both his father and Shay turned in the direction that Connor was looking. “Could be either one.” Shay remarked, shrugging little “I cannot rightly tell at the moment, though I’m leaning towards both, as they are heading directly towards us.”

A second carriage came and parked close to the first one, and another couple of people joined the group of wealthy looking individuals. The apparent leader of the group stepped away from the other four, calling up at them “May I speak with the captain of The Morrigan?” The half-shout was in heavily accented English.

“Aye, you are speaking with him, who is it that wants to speak with me?” Shay responded, not recognizing any of the people assembled in front of him. They were going to have to correctly answer all of the code phrases before any of the three of them were leaving The Morrigan. Not that it was likely that even the the three of them currently there, along with the two just arriving could best one of them in a fight, much less all three of them, but Shay would rather not risk the trouble and possible time in recovery in case they did get a lucky blow or two in, as what had happened to the Grandmaster several months ago.

“You, as well as Master Kenway and his son Connor have been cordially invited to stay at the home of Master De La Serre for the duration of your stay in our beautiful city. I have a sealed letter from Master De La Serre for each of you to read, Captain Cormac.” The person called up, removing a small leather bag and holding it out for one of them to take, at the full extension of his arm’s reach as he waited with some nervousness.

The messengers waited with nervous anticipation as the three of them read their letters. With the negotiations underway, it was unwise for Haytham to be out and about, as the more extreme elements of both sides were very vocally unhappy with how the treaty was being created. It was imperative that they were able to get the tacit approval or at least agreement to leave France and to not actively go after French Assassins from the other Grandmasters and to ensure that they would instruct their people – particularly those who had such prolific Assassin Hunters such as Cormac – so that their truce would have a chance at working. They needed to make sure that they had the agreement from Kenway before Germain was able to try and turn the Colonial Rite to his side as they had proven to be very effective at destroying chapters of the Brotherhood of Assassins.

Connor’s letter was a cheerful greeting from Julie de la Serre, wherein she mentioned a couple of things that had happened when the two of them had been alone together, to prove that the letter was from her, and that she would very much like to host him, his father and one of his father’s oldest friends in her home, as they had been so generous with theirs almost a year ago. She named the names of the five messengers who were supposed to have the letters, as well as what they looked like. From what Connor could tell, this was her handwriting, and the descriptions of those men matched with the four Templars closely. Just to check he asked neutrally, as he noted that they were nervous. “What are your names?” Whether they were nervous simply because his father was a terrifying person to those who did not know him well, or because they had intercepted this mission and were trying to sabotage it somehow was yet to be seen.

When the five possible Templars did not respond, Haytham leaned over the railing of The Morrigan, a frown appearing on his face as he stared at each of them in turn “I do suggest you answer his question. Unless you have forgotten your own names? Perhaps we could help you remember.”

“Aye, if you have nothing to hide – or are truly those who we were meant to meet, come aboard The Morrigan and we can have a little chat.” Shay added, a smirk appearing on his face as he stared each of the men down in turn. “Connor here is the nicest one of the three of us.”

They stuttered out their names, correctly saying the names that were in Connor’s, Haytham’s and Shay’s letters. The messengers did not seem the kind of nervous that those who were infiltrating and intercepting could be, but rather anxious in the manner that low-ranked Templars were when faced with superiors.

Haytham hummed a little before responding “You seem rather uncertain of your names, stuttering like that. Then again, perhaps it is because of who we are that makes you nervous? If you were sent by Grandmaster de la Serre answer me this; where is the river that flows through knowledge?”

Three of the messengers answered in unison “In the minds of those who understand the truth, and are guided by the father.” The fifth answered slightly after the other three.

This satisfied both Shay and Haytham. It was probably a templar code, but Connor was still unconvinced as to the veracity of their statements. As he followed his father and Shay to the messengers, he searched through his mind, remembering a code phrase that Achilles had taught him to use when meeting a potential fellow Assassin under such circumstances as they walked towards the two carriages. He quietly tapped the messenger who answered slightly after the others, a short and thin man with graying hair and asked softly so that his words would not carry to the others “Hal ‘ant tamshi mae aleaqidat?”

The messengers’ eyes widened in utter surprise, staring at Connor for what felt like a long time. As they drew closer to the carriages the messenger nodded ever so slightly, answering back just as quietly “Nieima, wa’atir mae alnnasur. Greetings, brother. I suspect we have much to talk about.”

“That we do, I suspect.” Connor answered, voice still soft, making certain to not move his lips much.

His father had noted that the two of them were tarrying a little and sent them both an unimpressed stare. The both of them hurried a little to catch up with the rest of the group. “Is there a problem, Connor?”

“I had a question about how we were going to Master de la Serre’s mansion, as even with two carriages, it is going to be rather cramped with the eight of us. It is a beautiful day outside, and I would rather not be trapped inside a carriage for an indeterminate length of time.” The with complete strangers was implied. As Connor was assumed to be the most junior member of the Colonial Rite, he would be put in a separate carriage than Haytham and Shay, both to reduce the danger, should Assassins attack the carriages despite the truce, and to be politely pestered by the messengers away from his Grandmaster and Enforcer, where Connor might be pressured into giving away secrets of his Rite to the messengers. Or so they hoped. This was a contingency that his beloved had warned him of.

“I see. You don’t know the way to his house, and Paris is far larger than any city you have ever been to Connor. I am concerned that you may get lost without a guide to this beautiful if occasionally chaotic place.”

The French Assassin spoke up “I would be delighted to show Connor around Paris, Master Kenway. I will aid him in avoiding trouble while exploring some of our beautiful city. Is there a certain time that you would like Connor to Master de la Serre’s mansion, sir?”

“I prefer him to be at de la Serre’s mansion in no more than three hours’ time as he would like to speak with Connor.” Haytham answered, a small frown appearing on his face as he looked the both of them over. He knew that Connor disliked being in small, enclosed spaces with strangers, but potentially straying far from others without knowing somewhere that had a modicum of safety to return to was generally not something that Connor did. Perhaps the reason why Connor tarried with that specific messenger was why his beloved wanted more room to move.

“I will keep that in mind, sir.” The French Assassin promised, nodding obediently.

Haytham nodded and they split into two groups – the Templars who went to the carriages, and the pair of Assassins who wandered further into the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hal ‘ant tamshi mae aleaqidat? = Do you walk with the creed? In Arabic according to google translate
> 
> Nieima, wa’atir mae alnnasur. = Yes, and I fly with eagles in Arabic according to google translate


	16. Chapter 16

“You keep curious company.” The French Assassin remarked, looking Connor over with a mixture of curiosity and wariness after they climbed one of the nearby buildings and headed far enough away so as to be out of sight of the carriages. “The Templars claim that you are Kenway’s son, yet by your words you imply you are an Assassin… The Assassin in the British Colonies who has caused such a stir.”

“And I could say the same of you.” Connor responded, raising an eyebrow at the older Assassin, patiently waiting for the questions he was quite certain were going to be asked. The two of them kept moving through Paris, and Connor stuck close to the French Assassin as the other knew where they might encounter guard patrols.

“This is true. The leaders of the French Brotherhood and Templar Rite have decided to try to form a treaty with one another to better protect the people of France. The negotiations are tense and slow going and there are detracts and those who believe that trying for peace violates everything we stand for. Why are you here? Please, I must ask you not to interfere as there is a real chance for peace.” the Assassin responded, a pleading note entering his voice.

“My father truly is Grandmaster Kenway, though I did not know who he was until after I had become an Assassin and had been for years, beyond his name.” Connor explained “Months ago, several very important Templars visited the Colonies, one of whom being Grandmaster de la Serre’s wife. As there is already a truce between the Brotherhood and the Templars in the British  Colonies, I was sent to aid the Grandmaster in managing them. I was apparently charming enough for the both of them to be curious about me. That, or they have a number of other plans in place and want to try to use me against rake:ni. I did not catch what your name was. Would you mind telling me? You have mine. I am curious, if the negotiations are as tense as you are implying, are the French Templars aware of your true allegiance, or are you undercover?”

A stunned expression flashed across the other’s face as he digested all of the information he had been given. “I… I see. My name is Charles. It is a little surprising that Kenway is being reasonable.. The French Templars are aware that I am an Assassin, and I was sent along with the Templar messengers as an act of good faith on their part.”

A small snort escaped Connor. “He is unreasonable about a great many things. However, unnecessary fighting is not something he wants.” a slightly irritated expression as memories of previous arguments flashed across his mind.

“Kenway is in favor of peace. That is welcome news, particularly as the fanatical edge of the French Rite are supporting Germain in order to attempt a takeover to return the French Templar Rite under their control and continue to try and control the populace and kill us.” Charles responded, a sigh escaping him as he shook his head a little. “Then again, there are hard-liners in the French Brotherhood who are very much against this treaty and would prefer that we fight one another, rather than trying to strike a balance. How was that handled within the British  Colonies of America?”

Connor shrugged a little “There are seven active assassins, including myself. There is our Mentor, Achilles who is against the truce, but he does agree that fighting one another is counterproductive and is waiting for the chance to tell us that he told us so, for daring to trust Templars not to stab us in the back. As for the Templar detractors within the British  Colonies… I do not know about them, nor what they may have said or attempted to do. Not that they would get far. Rake:ni does not suffer traitors to live. That is how the truce began, actually.”

“What do you mean by that, Connor?” Over Connor’s shoulder, Charles spotted a guard aiming at them with a rifle “We need to hide in a haystack for a short time, as I think… Yes, the rooftop guards did spot us and will start shooting at us and attracting rather a lot of attention and as we are near a barracks, we do not have the resources to fight all of the guards who will show up if we do not hide now.”

Connor followed suit, waiting until the guards stopped running around – activating his second sight and holding his breath a little as a couple of guards with swords drawn passed very close to their hiding spot, he tensed up, preparing to spring out, even as he hoped that they would not stab into the hay, trying to figure out if someone was there. One of the guards did pause, staring at the haystack for several long moments before leaving, rushing to catch up to the rest of the patrol. “The guards are gone, and we can get out of the haystack without being spotted.” Connor gracefully left the haystack, confident in what he had said, as he could no longer see any guards in the immediate vicinity.

Charles came out a little bit later, and with a great deal more wariness. “How did you know that they were gone so quickly?” The younger Assassin was indeed correct but… How had Connor been so certain? Unless…

“I could hear them moving. The sound of heavy military boots is a distinctive sound, if you know how to listen for it.” Connor answered, not quite lying to the other. He was well aware of the fact that his second sight was a rare ability, and one that he had inherited from his father. Haytham had asked him to not reveal to the Assassins that the other had second sight, if it was at all possible. Connor looked over at Charles, trying to read whether or not it would be a wise move to tell the older Assassin about his second sight. The other did seem affable enough, however…

This was not something he was willing to share with a near stranger, even a Brother. Connor had yet to inform his recruits of his second sight, much less this stranger. Connor continued his explanation “Benjamin Church was a traitor to the British Colonial Rite. I was looking for the supplies he had stolen from the Patriots and the Grandmaster was looking for Church who had defected to the British. We met in an abandoned building, talked briefly and deciding that pooling our resources was the better option than fighting one another while individually hunting for Church. That was also the first time the two of us met properly.”

Connor paused again, searching Charles’ face, hoping that the other would listen to him, to impress upon the other that this secret must be kept. “I would ask for you to please keep all of what I have told you in confidence. The French Templars are likely going to assume that I am a Templar, and that is an illusion that both rake:ni and I are very much wanting to keep going.”

“Of course. There is no need to let the Templars know everything after all. We have our secrets and they have theirs… I rather suspect that if I hint to know more of what is truly going on in the Colonies than what is presented by your father, I will wake with my throat slit, and that is if I am lucky enough to wake at all.” Charles responded carefully.

“Thank you for your promise. I will not reveal to anyone that you are an Assassin, nor will I give any indication that I am aware of your true allegiance, should the French Templars or your chapter of the Brotherhood choose to reveal your identity to the visiting Colonial Templars.” Connor responded, a small and grateful smile appearing on his face at the older Assassin’s promise.

Charles was still unconvinced that Connor had been able to tell by sound alone whether or not it was safe to leave the haystack. However, the French Assassin knew that pushing for the whole truth would likely end in pushing Connor away. The Colonial Assassin could be a crucial ally, and he could not risk potentially alienating Connor over this. Besides if his hunch was correct, Connor had used the same excuse as his six year old son Arno had when the boy had hidden successfully from his wife a few weeks ago when trying to avoid a bath. “We should get going. Our time runs short and it will take some time to get to de la Serre’s mansion. I ask out of curiosity, what would Kenway do if we were not to arrive at the specified time?”

“As he is surrounded by Templars not of his Rite in lands he does not know well? Rake:ni would send Shay after the both of us, saying that I might have accidentally gotten separated from you and was either wandering around Paris, lost. Or I had found my way back to The Morrigan, in the hopes that Gist or you would find me there. If Shay did find us together, he may begin to suspect that you are not a Templar. If we are separated when Shay finds one of us, he might suspect that I slipped away from you to try to make contact with the French Brotherhood.” Connor answered, a small sigh escaping him at the possibilities.

Charles had gone a distressing shade of white at what Connor had said, looking as though someone had just run him through with a sword. In a meek and trembling voice, the French Assassin managed to ask “You are… Certain that he…He would send Cormac after us for being late?”

Connor stared at Charles in utter confusion. He did not have the slightest clue as to why he would have such an extreme reaction to what was one of the more reasonable things his father might do. “Is there something wrong, Charles? He – father – might find us himself, or would try to if we were in the Colonies, but as you speak of treaties and truce, it is highly likely that the more extreme people on both sides of the conflict will try to attack or kidnap anyone they perceive as important. I rather doubt that the French Rite would allow him to wander freely.”

“I…He…” A terrible sense of clarity crystallized in Charles’ mind. Connor did not know why his father and Cormac were so feared. Davenport had not told him of how the previous Colonial Brotherhood fell… Nor, possibly, any of the other recently recruited assassins. “Cormac is an Assassin Killer. He is very good at it. That is why I reacted like that when you said that Cormac might be sent after us to bring us to de la Serre.”

“Oh… I did not know that. Shay is kind when he is allowed to be. Father is by far the more ruthless of the two of them.” Connor responded “We should head off to de la Serre’s then, so as to avoid arousing their suspicion. Father probably will not try to interfere in the peace process and I will try to keep him from negatively influencing things if he is of a mind to attempt to do so when he does find out about the truce. Unless the French Templars mentioned it in a previous letter, to my knowledge, rake:ni has yet to be informed. He will find out, regardless of whether or not it is the French Grandmaster’s intention to do so or not.”

“Secrets can be kept by others… However Kenway has been brought here in the hopes that he would take positively or at least neutrally to the idea that we are trying to create peace in order to better protect the populace.” Charles responded, shuddering just a little at the utter certainty with which Connor spoke. There was a possibility that Connor was a little bit biased about his father… Then again, Kenway was a highly inquisitive and relentless person and always had been. The two of them headed for Grandmaster de la Serre’s mansion.


	17. Chapter 17

Connor was entirely unenthused with the formal clothing he was wearing. He had spent the last three weeks since they had arrived in Paris reading to young Elise and teaching her and Charles’ son Arno how to climb the trees in the garden while staying away from the plotting going on between the leaders of the French Rite. He had been keeping Julie company, as his father had explained to both Francois and Julie that he was unused to such large gatherings of people in such a formal setting. Apparently the negotiations were going fairly well, but Arno was a promise by the French Brotherhood not to suddenly attack the French Grandmaster’s home, as apparently Charles Dorian was a member of the French Brotherhood. Arno would be reunited with his father tonight…

And Connor would be introduced to many more of the French Brotherhood and Templar Rite as the son of Haytham Kenway, as that had been a secret kept out of courtesy to his father. Perhaps to show how much the two of them could look like one another, Connor had been talked into wearing a formal British Colonial Templar uniform. Specifically, this was one of his father’s uniforms, tailored to fit Connor correctly, as apparently his captain’s uniform was not formal enough for the standards of the event they were to very shortly attend.

Cormac was wearing a similar outfit, but instead of blue, his was highlighted with a dark red color. Why he had to wear his father’s uniform, no one had deigned to explain to Connor, but he did not like it one bit. The event was being held outside of the city. As a result, the carriage ride was long. Longer than Connor was comfortable with anyway in stiff, unfamiliar clothing.

“Connor, I told you that it would be faster to tailor something of mine to fit you, rather than asking a tailor or a seamstress to make something formal within a couple of week’s time for someone of your measurements. We are quite tall and broad shouldered and I wanted to make certain that the clothes would look and fit well on you.” Haytham sighed, noting the tension in his beloved’s jaw and the way his son’s fists clenched and unclenched a little as the carriage came to a stop.

“So you have told me.” Connor grumbled, pulling the tricorn hat he was wearing so that it shadowed his face as they left the carriage and headed towards the opulently wrought front gates. “If you had told me before we had left that we would be attending an event that required something more formal than the attire that I could bring with me without causing an unnecessary stir, I would have ensured that I had something in time.” He would have asked Ellen, and she would have no doubt made something truly wonderful. But no, he was stuck in his father’s clothes.

“You look good in them, Connor.” Haytham responded, gaze sweeping over the area. There was the carriage driver, who was bringing the horses around to the back, and a couple of other guests, but they were further down the path with their backs facing the two of them. He moved closer to Connor and gently tilted the other’s hat back to a proper angle, before tucking one of Connor’s braids behind an ear, and tracing the line of the other’s jaw comfortingly. “You truly do look good. Besides, this is to prove a point to the others. That you are mine and not simply because I say so.” Haytham was tempted to kiss Connor, but he knew they could be seen at any moment and he had no desire to run for his life.

Butterflies seemed to have taken residence in his stomach, with the way it felt. Connor’s throat was dry and he could feel a blush dusting his cheeks “I… I see. You are mine as well, and even if they try, I would not let them separate us. I have heard that there are only Assassins, Templars and those who knowingly support either side going to this ball… At least, that is what the whispers from the servants are, and therefore, the Assassins will be in their full uniforms, and the Templars in attendance will be wearing their uniforms… Yes?” If that was true, they would be claiming by what Connor was wearing that he was an British Colonial Templar – or at least heavily aligned that way… Then again, the latter was true. This was simply not the full truth, but they had agreed not to share that with the French, lest they try to influence things.

“That is correct, I am unsurprised that you have been gathering information while you were playing with the children and distracting them from their lessons while we were busy. You could have assisted us, if you had been of a mind to.” Haytham responded, an amused lilt in his voice as they walked up to the front gates, the two of them closer together than was strictly appropriate, but neither minding in the least.

“I did teach Arno and Elise what they were supposed to learn in their lessons! I also taught them how to climb, as children that age have a great deal of energy, and I noticed that Arno in particular has a great desire to be outside and to do things, rather than to sit still and listen to an adult’s lecture.” Connor protested a little, a stubborn expression flashing across his face. He refused to apologize for interacting with the children in the way that he had. They had learned everything the tutors had wanted them to learn and more, and enjoyed themselves thoroughly in the process.

 ----

Musicians played in their designated stage, and the assembled guests chatted with one another, pausing for a few seconds after each new arrival was announced to acknowledge their presence politely before returning to their different conversations. One common topic of conversation was the fact that Cormac, The Cormac, was leaning against a wall, close to where the new guests were entering, arms folded over his chest, and quite obviously waiting for someone else to arrive. There were rumors that Kenway was in Paris as well, but those who knew for certain would not confirm or deny the rumor.

About an hour or so into the festivities, and perhaps three quarters of the attendees were where they were supposed to be. The announcer appeared once again, stepping into the room and cleared his throat, speaking clearly “Grandmaster Haytham Kenway and his son, Connor.” He stepped aside as Kenway and a young man that only a handful of those present in the room had met before now gracefully stepped into the room as their names were announced.

There was no denying that they were father and son. It was striking how similar they looked in matching black, navy blue and gold-accented outfits. Their noses, jaws and cheekbones matched, as well as the broadness of shoulders and the confident way that they held themselves. Connor, dutifully trailed a couple of steps behind his father, wherever the elder man went, politely speaking with the men and women he was introduced to, watching everyone who approached the two of them with a penetrating golden-brown gaze.

Cormac joined the two of them after Kenway had made the rounds of introducing his son to the most important Templars in the room, talking briefly with Connor before settling into a guarding position on Kenway’s left side, as the youngest of the trio shifted right.


	18. Chapter 18

His father had told him to “Go socialize with any who catch your eye.” Before leaving with Cormac to go deeper into what was unofficially Templar territory in the ballroom. Connor suspected that his father was conferring with other Templars about matters that Haytham did not want him overhearing. The dancing would begin after the final guests arrived, which could be any moment. Connor knew several colonial dances and had practiced them with Ellen, Diana and Myriam under the direction of Achilles. He had no desire to speak with any of the Templars, and they seemed to feel the same, given the way they skirted around him and watched as they passed by him and whispered.

The French Assassins… Connor was uncertain as to how well they would take to an attempt at conversation as there was an empty space about five feet wide that ran the length of the ballroom that no one had yet decided to breach. While there was laughter, chatter and pleasantly cheerful music, tension and mistrust hung heavily in the air.

Connor was torn between wanting to try to find his father or Cormac – ignoring his lover’s (or Shay’s) subtle snarking for interfering…. Or trying to find a path he could climb up to the rafters so that he could watch everyone and not feel as though he was being watched. If he started by the musicians, there was a good chance that no one would notice in time to stop him.

Connor started towards the stage, sticking to the unofficial Templar side – but only just – when a vaguely familiar voice called out to him “Connor! I would like you to meet a couple of friends of mine.” Connor turned towards the voice, spotting Charles Dorian walking towards him in his full Assassin’s robes, flanked on both sides by more Assassins. One of them seemed… Vaguely familiar to Connor. A couple moments later it clicked, the vaguely familiar Assassin had been part of the previous negotiations at de la Serre’s mansion. They had seen one another briefly. Dorian stopped just shy of the barrier.

Connor made his way over to the trio, nodding politely at them. “Good evening, how are you tonight Charles? I hope Arno had a little bit of fun while staying at the de la Serre’s home. I know that Elise was quite taken with him.”

“I am certain he enjoyed being a hostage because the Templars were feeling particularly paranoid.” One of them snapped, a fierce scowl twisting his features. “Charles here says you fly with the eagles, yet here you are in your father’s clothes. Then again you did try to keep them from trying to indoctrinate the lad.”

“Pierre! I told you that was privileged information as they are keeping that from our more Orderly counterparts. I daresay that Kenway did not give you much say in how you were to dress of this evening.” Charles responded, scolding his friend for being rude. It was abundantly clear to him that the young Assassin was feeling very uncomfortable.

“… My apologies, Charles. It’s just… This is going to fail miserably, and we are going to be worse for it. But if we can get more supplies and allies while this farce of a treaty is in place, when the Templars do screw us over, we will be in a better position than we are now.” Pierre groused, still scowling as he folded his arms over his chest. He was very much against this whole nonsense…On the other hand, the Templars currently did have the upper hand and if this treaty would allow the Brotherhood to gain more equal footing with the Templars, then it would prove not to just be a huge, dangerous waste of time.

“Perhaps it will, perhaps this will lead to a greater peace and safety of the civilians. But if an honest attempt is not made and abided by, then the side that stuck to the treaty longer will think themselves correct in their views of the world, and that the other side is not to be trusted as they – or at least a member of a few members of that side – violated the treaty.” Connor pointed out quietly, uncertain as to whether or not Pierre would start shouting at him. He seemed like a very angry person, and not someone Connor wanted to talk to for much longer.

His words prompted a quiet but fiercely bickered debate between Pierre, Charles and the Assassin who Connor had yet to learn a name from if it was better for the Brotherhood to cut ties with the Templars first, or wait for the Templar to do so first should the treaty fail in the future. Pierre seemed to be of the opinion that as soon as the Brotherhood figured out that the Templars might be leaning towards breaking the treaty rather than keep it, they should strike first and strike hard so that the Assassins did not get screwed over. Charles on the other hand seemed to be of the opinion that they should bring up the potential future problems with the ruling Templars before striking against them, so as to not be accused of breaking the treaty first. The third Assassin stated that in her opinion they should detain the offending Templars. Then they should negotiate with their leaders for the release of said Templar transgressors. Along with making sure they were promised to mind their people better.

The argument continued with the same amount of hushed ferocity as before, even as several more guests arrived. None of the three arguing Assassins seemed to notice the announcement of a… Mirabeau? Said person was an Assassin by his dress, and Mirabeau was headed directly for the four of them. Connor tried to break into the conversation with a “There is so-“ but Pierre shoved a hand in Connor’s face in an attempt to silence him.

The sudden and rude gesture provoked Connor to react automatically. Without thought, Connor grabbed the offending arm and twisted, pulling the person closer as he flicked his wrist-blade out, hand wrapping around the hilt as the dagger detached.

“Connor, put him down. Bellec is an irritating nuisance at the best of times, but spilling blood here will do nobody any good.” Haytham’s voice called out, far away and very near all at once. The target struggled fruitlessly in Connor’s grasp. He could count on one hand the names of those who matched or exceeded his strength… and this arsehole was not one of them.

Connor activated his second sight as he regarded his lover’s statement. He abruptly snapped out of it, let Bellec go and turned towards his father “You are correct, father. My apologies for that reaction, Monsieur Bellec. I do not take well to strangers trying to grab me.” His sight switched back and he was grateful to get away from the trio of squabbling Assassins… And to not be effectively pinned against a wall by well armed strangers.

\----

Connor stuck close to his father, Cormac or the both of them for the rest of the non-dancing portion of the evening. No matter what anyone else may have thought, it was simply because he wished to. Anyone who made a comment about him hiding behind either of them was wrong and ridiculous to assume such. Connor was simply exhausted from dealing with so many tense and scheming strangers. Both Colonial Templars were very good about keeping such people away from him.

Unfortunately the respite was brief as Connor was politely forced to dance with several women who looked around his age. Three of them were Templars and the other two were Assassins. They were all excellent dancers and he was able to keep the topics of conversations to small-talk and what they were hoping would happen because of the treaty. Curiously enough, the five of them kept wanting to dance with him for as long as Connor danced throughout the evening, going so far as to keep others away from him. Hours later he begged off, citing sore feet and a concern that he might trip and step on their feet.

Shay smirked at Connor as the younger man slid down into the seat, just barely stopping himself from groaning in relief “Enjoy yourself with the lasses, Connor?”

His feet ached and if he had to speak one more word of French, Connor was going to start singing sea shanties, just to see how the more prissy Templars would react, so he spoke in English “Not particularly, though they were interesting conversational partners. I do not think that I saw you dance, Shay? Is there a particular reason why you escaped having to do so?”

“I did dance with a couple of Templar lasses, but unlike you, who is new to all of them, as well as friendly and approachable looking, I am a terrifying person.” Shay responded, an amused expression flashing across his face at Connor’s words. He did not particularly feel like dancing tonight, and as he had danced for three songs as the Grandmaster had required of him, he was content to wait for the rest of the night. He had seen Gist earlier and was happy to wait for his beloved first mate so that they could enjoy a bit of conversation.

“…You are terrifying?” Connor responded, blinking at Shay in a mixture of disbelief and open curiosity. “Father I could understand. He is ruthless, cunning and has a cruel streak… but you are kind, warm and approachable unless someone offers you insult or threatens those whom you hold dear… Or the Morrigan, but that is to be expected.”

“Lad, I did not get to be the head of the British Colonial Templar fleet by just being an able sailor. I am every bit as terrifying as your father can be, when I need to be.” Not that Shay was convinced that Connor knew how dark the Grandmaster could get. Connor’s presence in the mansion alone, even though he was as far as they could reasonably ensure the young man was… Haytham was far warmer than he normally would have been in the situation they had been dragged into. With Connor interacting with him, the Grandmaster actually smiled. It scared several of the French Templars (apart from de la Serre) who had interacted with Haytham more than a couple of times witless. It had been a great deal of fun keeping one of the reasons why his Grandmaster was less terrifying to deal with a secret from them.

Connor blinked at Shay, processing the information that he had been given and shrugged a little “I… I suppose that does make sense. Father truly does care for you and Gist. That much I can tell. He is a difficult man to read… At least, he is for me.”

“Aye, he keeps things close to the chest, but that is only reasonable in our line of work. Ah, I see a couple of enterprising lasses headed your way. They might be hoping for marriage prospects, so be careful. Not that your rake:ni would allow that unless you started to genuinely fancy one of them.” Shay responded, smirking a little as several beautiful and well-dressed young women – one of whom was an Assassin, the other a Templar – walked towards where the two of them were currently sitting.

Unfairly large and sad brown eyes peered at Shay, as Connor resisted the urge to rub his temples… Or dive under the nearest table and hide. “… Please make them go away. I have no desire to interact with anyone I have not met before for the rest of the evening. If you do not think I would refuse to hide behind my father for the rest of the evening you are sorely mistaken.” His voice was quiet and pleading as he tried to catch and keep Shay’s eye. Connor’s ability to politely ignore or redirect flirting had taken a heavy toll and his patience for this sort of affair was almost gone.

Shay had been torn between helping Connor and watching the younger man try to deal with more potential suitors, as it was one of the most entertaining events he was able to observe. Connor truly was a gentle soul, as he pretended that the subtle flirtations were not something he could quite grasp in French, which while a language he did know with some authority, was a tongue that he was still learning how to speak. “As you wish, Connor. I will try to have the lasses leave you be, for a time at least. We should be allowed to leave with our hosts in another hour or two at most, so we are close to finishing this.” Shay had been tempted to say that if Connor had wanted to evade being talked to, that he should find his father and hide… As the image of that would be entirely too adorable for words. It would also distract his Grandmaster terribly, and he would probably get scolded for it.

“Thank you, Captain Cormac.” Connor responded gratefully, leaning just a little in his seat towards Shay as the young ladies came close enough to speak with them.

* * *


	19. Chapter 19

Just as Shay had predicted, the formal event started to break up as the moon had traveled far across the night’s sky and the participants were varying stages of elegantly worn down… Or barely concealing their exhausted irritation and ever present suspicion of the other side. With Shay’s help, Connor had barely managed to evade having to dance for the final couple of hours.

As it was dangerous for both the de la Serres, his father, Gist, Shay and himself to travel in the same carriage – as well as being too many people – Shay and Gist were in one carriage, and the four of them were in the other, bound for the de la Serre’s Paris mansion.

Connor sat next to his father, and directly across from Julie de la Serre, as his father was across from the French Grandmaster. He tried to keep his eyes open, while sitting properly, but as the carriage continued to rock, and a contented silence continued to stretch, Connor was fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes open. He leaned into his beloved’s shoulder, humming just a little as his eyes could not keep open, no matter what he did.

A shuddering yawn nearly cracked his jaw – and he was only just able to cover the reaction. A comfortingly familiar hand brushed through his hair, and his lover’s voice filled his ears “Rest, Connor. You have done well, and the night was long and arduous for you.” A kiss was pressed to his forehead and Connor smiled sleepily at that, snuggling into his beloved further.

* * *

“Connor, it is time to wake. I could carry you to your room, but doing so will likely startle and distress you more than anything else.” His father called, gently shaking him as he spoke.

“Ah! I… I had not meant to fall asleep. Thank you for letting me rest, rake:ni.” Connor responded, speaking mainly in English as he yawned again, covering the movement and suppressed a stretch. He flustered just a little as he realized that they were being observed by the de la Serres’, ducking his head a little as his hands came up to his chest, one hand forming a loose fist, as the other massaged his knuckles. “I apologize to the three of you for inadvertently falling asleep. I hope I did not inconvenience you.”

“Not at all! These long, late nights being very diplomatic is difficult, even for me, and I have been attending such things for much longer than you have.” Julie soothed, finding the nervous gesture a mixture of endearing and a little sad. The young man was almost painfully aware of how he towered over almost everyone wherever he went and obviously took great care in trying not to take up more space than he absolutely had to.

“Thank you, my lady.” Connor responded, fidgeting a bit more, not looking at any of them, which in the enclosed space of the carriage, was quite the feat.

Mercifully, they left the carriage and went to the mansion with only a little more small talk. Connor was hopeful that this event was the only one that they were required to attend…There was the additional fact that his father had promised to leave them alone at the event, so perhaps it would not be seen as impolitic if they were to leave soon. Mercifully, a couple of days later, Shay, Gist, Connor and Haytham were allowed to head home.


End file.
